


Impulse

by ILikeShorts



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Diamond & Pearl & Platinum | Pokemon Diamond Pearl Platinum Versions
Genre: Crushes, F/M, Fantasizing, Ferris Wheel, Fluff, Humor, Ill-Advised Scheming, Love Triangle, Pokemon Gym Leaders, Romance, Unova Region, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:15:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27921376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ILikeShorts/pseuds/ILikeShorts
Summary: The annual retreat is here at last, and no one's more excited than Candice. It's the perfect opportunity to turn her crush on Volkner into something more, and nothing—not even a gorgeous, electric Pokémon-loving supermodel—can stand in her way. Whether it's Pokémon, fashion, or romance, this girl is all about focus. But a lot can go wrong when you only focus on one thing…
Relationships: Denzi | Volkner/Suzuna | Candice, Hyouta | Roark/Natane | Gardenia, Ryou | Aaron/Sumomo | Maylene
Comments: 36
Kudos: 11





	1. Struggle

**Author's Note:**

> A romcom in eight parts. Who's up for a throwback love story while we await the oft-dreamed-about Sinnoh remakes that'll hopefully become a reality one of these days?

_senirasushipping — because a little daydreaming never hurt anyone_

* * *

Okay. I can handle this. All I have to do is focus.

It's only a suitcase. One tiny little suitcase. At least, that's what I tell myself as I summon every last ounce of my strength just to lift it off the ground. My arms are aching already.

Unbelievable. I mean, how much can a few clothes weigh?

It's not even like I brought that much stuff. One outfit for every day of the retreat. That's all.

And a pair of shoes to go with each of them. And a purse to go with each pair of shoes. Just the bare essentials. Nothing more.

Plus a whole pile of my favorite skirts. I had more than enough extra space, so I figured, why not? Which meant I had to pack more tops, because there's no point in having all those skirts if I have nothing to wear them with, is there?

Then I remembered the hotel pool, so I threw in a bikini or two. Or six, to be exact. And that gorgeous turquoise beach towel I bought at the Veilstone Department Store and never got a chance to use.

When are we going to have that beach party, anyway? I keep telling Volkner to make it happen—he's the one with the house on the beach—and so far all he's done is shrug those perfectly sculpted shoulders of his and tell me maybe later. When he's not so busy with the gym. He's been "busy with the gym" for over a year now.

Speaking of shoulders, I think I might have just sprained one. This suitcase is going to be the death of me.

No, seriously. It must weigh about a thousand pounds. I knew I should've bought the more practical one with the wheels. But this one had the cutest pattern—how could I resist?

It was no question, really. And now I'm faced with the impossible task of somehow transporting my stylish new bag through the largest hotel lobby I've ever seen.

I stop for a minute and take in my surroundings. It's got sleek marble columns. Sparkling crystal chandeliers. And that guy over there with the bodyguard—isn't he a famous actor? I swear I've seen him in something.

Really, this place is amazing. I've never been anywhere like it. It's classic but modern. Elegant but understated. And, I lament to myself as I abandon the idea of actually carrying my suitcase and resort to dragging it along the immaculate white tiles, way too big for its own good.

In a perfect world, I'd reach into the front pocket where my Poké Balls are packed and ask my Mamoswine to give me a hand. That's what I was planning on. But it turns out our hotel isn't exactly Pokémon-friendly. The sign's right there for everyone to see: _No Pokémon Permitted in Building_.

Crazy, isn't it? I mean, who doesn't like having Pokémon around? But I can understand the logic behind their rules. It'd be tough to maintain a five-star hotel with Tauros charging down the hallways and Trubbish mucking up the furniture.

So here I am, practically on the verge of collapse, without a single Pokémon to help me. It's not exactly how I envisioned the first moments of our retreat.

My best friend Maylene seems to think this is funny. "Hey, Candice," she teases me. "You think you brought enough clothes?"

Maylene's suitcase isn't even one-third the size of mine. In fact, most of the other leaders have nothing but overnight bags. If I'm being honest, I look a bit ridiculous in comparison. But how was I supposed to know they'd all be such light packers? My philosophy is, if you can manage to cram half your wardrobe into your luggage, you might as well go for it. Then you've got options. You never know what you'll feel like wearing, after all.

Of course, I didn't realize I'd be carrying half my wardrobe all by myself. Whatever happened to those cute guys they hire to help you with your stuff?

I guess they're all busy. It _is_ prime vacation season at the most popular hotel in Unova. When I volunteered to organize the Sinnoh League's annual retreat, nobody warned me that I was going to be dealing with one of the biggest travel weekends of the year. I'm lucky I got the booking in the first place.

Maylene's not the only one in on the joke. My other best friend, Gardenia, gapes at my overstuffed bag like she's expecting it to explode all over the lobby any second now. "I think Candice brought enough clothes for all of us."

She's not even holding _her_ suitcase. Her boyfriend Roark's taking care of it. I have to admit, I'm a little jealous.

"Yeah," he joins in. "If you like miniskirts and girly socks."

Not jealous because of Roark, I mean. Jealous because they're so perfect together that it almost makes me want to run straight to my hotel room and cry into my pillow about how I'll probably never land such a devoted boyfriend for myself. Almost.

Not to mention the fact that she doesn't have to carry a darned thing.

"Oh, come on, guys." I laugh halfheartedly, breathless as I struggle to keep up. "You know me."

All right, already. I get it. So I may have overpacked just a little. I don't see why it's such a big deal. Byron's got a shovel, for Arceus' sake. Is he seriously planning to go digging for fossils this weekend?

Actually, yeah. Knowing him, I bet he is.

Anyway. Fantina's suitcase is almost as big as mine. No one's saying anything about that. Except Fantina wears these outrageous floor-length ball gowns with ultra-poufy skirts that probably take up half a suitcase on their own.

I don't have that excuse. You could probably fit five of my skirts into a handbag. But still.

Enough is enough. I can't do this anymore. My whole body hurts. I'll be so exhausted, I won't have the energy to move. I'll wind up spending the entire weekend in the hotel spa, getting massage after massage to undo all the damage I've done to myself with my thousand-pound bag.

…Which doesn't sound half bad, really. But I've got plans for this retreat. Spa days are kind of not on the agenda.

I let my suitcase fall to the ground and look around helplessly. "Can somebody give me a hand with this? Pretty please?"

"Sure can," says Maylene, grabbing it by the handle. Then she takes one look at it and swings the whole thing over her shoulder like it's nothing more than a shopping bag.

Wow. I'm impressed. Even Crasher Wake, the five-time Sinnoh wrestling champion, seems impressed. Where'd she learn to do _that_? All that training with Lucario must be paying off big time.

"Thanks, Maylene." I put on a grateful smile, but secretly, I'm a little disappointed. That wasn't quite who I had in mind.

Volkner didn't even notice me. Not that he ever does.

If it sounds like I'm exaggerating, I'm not. He hasn't looked my way once since we got here. Last time I checked, he was still talking to Byron. They've been talking battle tactics for the past half hour. Honestly. How much is there to say about entry hazards?

Well, a lot, now that I think about it. But that's not the point.

* * *

Finally. Now's my chance. As we join the line at the check-in desk, I make my way to the front of our group and just so coincidentally happen to stand right next to Volkner. At least, that's what I hope it looks like.

It's exactly what I'm supposed to be doing. I'm the one who made our reservation, after all. So, if anyone asks, I'm only up here to make sure things go smoothly once we get called to the counter. Not because I'm dying to say hi to him or anything.

"Candice. Hey."

There are no words for the way I feel when I hear that voice. Maybe this isn't the perfect moment I was aiming for. My skirt's all rumpled from lugging my massive bag around, and I'm still breathing a little hard. But after all this time without so much as a glance from Volkner, I'll take what I can get.

I turn to him with my most dazzling smile—not that I could suppress it even if I tried. "Hey yourself."

"You sure got rid of that suitcase fast." He nods in Maylene's direction. "You do know we're not moving here for good, don't you?"

"Of course I do." I giggle. "I'm in charge, remember?"

I know. I _know_. This is just the kind of teasing I was complaining about. But when Volkner does it, it's different. You could almost say he's flirting with me.

You could also say he's making fun of me. But I like the first idea better.

"So what can I look forward to this weekend?" he asks me. "Fashion shows? Two thumbs down Pokéstar Studios chick flicks?" Then the smirk on his face gives way to a genuine smile. "Maybe even a battle or two?"

"Whatever you want." The words barely register with me as they slip out. He's already got me on cloud nine, idly twisting a ponytail around my finger as I gaze upward into impossibly blue eyes.

It's been like this since day one. Somehow, I can never seem to focus when Volkner's around.

Wait a sec. Did I _really_ just say that?

"I mean, I'm not going to tell you how to spend your retreat." I revert to the most neutral, matter-of-fact, _so-_ not-coming-on-to-him voice I can manage. "I thought we could all just kind of do our own thing, you know?"

That's the only way to do it. Last year, when Fantina was in charge, she took us all to Lilycove to watch the Master Rank Contests. (Fantina's a contest fanatic. Of course she would.) We had fun, but it was pretty clear that not everyone wanted to be there. Especially after Volkner and Flint skipped the final rounds on account of so-called food poisoning. Then Lucian saw them sneaking back to their rooms that night with armfuls of prizes from the Battle Tower.

Anyway. That won't be happening this time around. Now that it's my turn to run the show, I've arrived with a plan that all the leaders will love—no plan whatsoever. I got eight tickets to Nimbasa, booked a hotel, and the rest is up to them.

Volkner flashes me a rare grin. "I like your style."

"I thought you would." I beam back at him. "But hey, if it's battles you're after, the Battle Subway's supposed to be awesome."

"I know."

"And you know about the different trains, right?" I can't resist asking. This is the opportunity I've been waiting for. "Single Battle and Double Battle. And then there's Multi Battle," I add hopefully, giving Volkner a meaningful look. "You're going to need a partner for that one."

"Yeah." He frowns. "Too bad Flint's stuck at the League."

The words hit me like a Hyper Beam. That was _not_ who I meant.

"Wasn't my idea." I shrug, but I can't shake off the hurt I feel. What about me? Does he think I'm not good enough for him?

Okay, so maybe I can't measure up to his usual partner in crime. And there's no denying that Volkner can beat me in a Pokémon battle any day of the week. But it's not like I can't hold my own with him—at least, until that Electivire of his comes out to play and it's game over.

But still. I wouldn't be battling _against_ Volkner. We'd be on the same team. So he doesn't have to be such a jerk about it.

"Cynthia insisted on it." I'm making every effort to sound like I'm not upset in the slightest—so far, so good. "I tried to get her to see it my way, but you know how she is."

Which isn't exactly the truth. I agreed with Cynthia without a second thought. She had this idea that instead of going on one big Pokémon League retreat like we usually do, the Gym Leaders and Elite Four should go separately for a change. Because after what happened with Team Galactic not too long ago, it'd be downright irresponsible for all of Sinnoh's top trainers to go on holiday at the same time. It hasn't been the most popular decision, but I think it makes a lot of sense. You can't be too careful these days, you know?

Okay, fine. The real reason is, this whole separate retreats thing really works in my favor. If Volkner had his BFF Flint to hang with, I doubt he'd even be talking to me right now.

"Forget about it. You tried." He leans back against a pillar, nonchalant as ever. "So, Candice. Think you can keep up with me?"

 _Keep up with me?_ Does that mean what I think it means?

"Is that a challenge?"

"It's a challenge, all right." Volkner stares me down in mock arrogance, daring me to back out now. "I'm warning you—the Subway's not going to be easy."

"And I wouldn't want it any other way. You're on!"

As we shake on it, I can't help but reminisce at the feeling of my hand in his. It takes me back to our very first match.

I remember it like it was yesterday. I'd only just met Volkner and the other leaders, and I was dying to see what all the hype was about. He couldn't be _that_ good, I thought.

Well, he was _that_ good. It's true what they say—you don't even know Volkner till you've seen him in battle. He has this attitude about him a lot of the time, like he's completely and utterly bored by, well, life. But the moment that Poké Ball leaves his hand, he's a different person. And before you can so much as blink, he's throwing everything he's got at you and you're pulling out all the stops just to stay in the game. I didn't stand a chance.

And when it was all over—when he shook my hand and those electric blue eyes met mine and I almost forgot to let go—that was when I knew. I was falling for Volkner. Hard.

That was a long time ago. Several more battles and dozens of unsuccessful flirting attempts later, I've fallen farther than I ever thought possible, and absolutely nothing has come of it.

Well, maybe not _nothing_. We're friends. That has to count for something.

But only in the same way that pretty much all of us in the League are friends—those of us under the age of thirty, anyway. We hang out. Have dinner. See movies. Throw parties. But I can never get him alone, and Volkner's hardly the type to care about broadening his social circle. He's always off complaining to Flint about pointless League policies or mediocre challengers jamming up his gym schedule, never giving me the time of day.

Which is exactly why this retreat is so important. Flint's not going to get in my way now.

It's everything I've ever wished for. Me and Volkner and no one else, side by side as we conquer whatever the Multi Train throws at us. I'll battle the best I ever have, and we'll go further than any trainers have gone before. And when the Subway Bosses fall to our unstoppable combination of lightning and ice, we'll run into each other's arms, dizzy with excitement as we celebrate our record-breaking victory.

 _"Candice, you're amazing,"_ he'll tell me, emotion pouring out of every word as he holds me tightly.

 _"Oh, stop it, Volkner,"_ I'll say, laughing softly as I lean into his embrace. _"Not half as amazing as you."_

"Candice."

"Yes, Volkner?"

I'm still lost in daydreams of whispered compliments and triumphant smiles when his voice brings me back to earth. But it's nothing like I imagined just now—sharp and impatient and not the least bit impressed.

He points at one very frustrated hotel clerk, calling us up to the front desk for what doesn't sound like the first time. Or the second time. Or even the third time.

"You gonna check us in or what?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Up next: Volkner shows up outside Candice's hotel room. And you'll never guess what he wants..._


	2. Whirlwind

_senirasushipping — because a picture is worth a thousand words_

* * *

There's just one little tradition I have when I travel. The moment I set foot in my hotel room, before I go anywhere or do anything or even sit down, I head straight to the window and take a good, long look at the view.

It only takes a single glimpse of the Nimbasa City lights to render me completely breathless.

Some might say this is nothing special. But compared to Snowpoint, it's downright magical. Back home, the tallest building is the Pokémon Center, with a grand total of two stories. And if you happen to glance out the second floor window, all you'll see is more snow.

From way up here in room 1605, I can see Nimbasa for miles and miles. There's that famous theater—the one where Pokémon Musicals first came to be. And there's that sports stadium—thanks to its size, it's impossible to ignore. And off to the side, brighter than anything else on the horizon, there it is.

The Ferris wheel. I've been fantasizing about it ever since I picked the location for this year's retreat. Me and Volkner on the Ferris wheel, to be specific. It's the stuff romcoms are made of. The sun will be setting and we'll be sitting close, and he'll take my hand, and I'll rest my head on his shoulder…

 _"It's beautiful,"_ I'll say, gazing out at the sky and the city below.

 _"You're_ _beautiful,"_ he'll reply, not taking his eyes off me.

When we reach the highest point, the wheel will stop, if only for a moment. And he'll smile at me like he never has before and I'll smile back because _this_ is what I've been waiting for, and we'll lose ourselves in the perfect kiss. Because that's just what you do on top of a Ferris wheel. It's practically common knowledge.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not crazy. I know the odds of any of that happening are slim to none. But a girl can dream, right?

Dreaming may be an understatement. The thing is, I've learned pretty quickly that Volkner doesn't _do_ romance. Like, he thinks _Sleepless in Striaton_ is the stupidest movie ever. And Flint once told me that Volkner's ex-girlfriend Jasmine finally broke it off because she'd send him these love letters all the way from Johto and then he'd go and reply via text message, which is kind of missing the point.

Not that I minded. It just goes to show that she wasn't the right girl for him. But anyway.

It's time I changed out of these winter clothes. So I forget the Ferris wheel for now and empty the contents of my suitcase out onto the floor (not ideal, I know—but I can't exactly lift it onto my bed, can I?) in search of the perfect outfit.

" _Zut alors_!" shrieks Fantina as she emerges from the closet, eyeing the now-covered carpet with a frown. "Is that all _yours_?"

Yes, Fantina. That's my roommate. Fantina, of all people. It's a long story.

I know what she's thinking. Why in the world would I need all this for one weekend away?

To be totally honest, I'm not too sure myself. I guess I've always been something of a fashionista. It goes way back to my junior trainer years, when I insisted on wearing pretty little coats and tights while all the other kids were in snowsuits. It's a part of who I am.

Although Alicia from my gym did tell me something interesting once. (She tends to overanalyze, that girl. It's oh so convenient when it comes to planning battle strategies, not so convenient when it comes to real life.) She thinks my passion for fashion stems from a deep-down desire to distance myself from the old Snowpoint Gym Leader like my life depends on it.

Ugh. That woman. As I ditch my snow boots for a summery pair of sandals, I shudder just thinking about her. Cold as ice, she was. And practically inhuman. I should know—I trained under her for three years, and took every single class she taught at the Trainers' School.

Sounds fun, doesn't it? But I'd dreamed of becoming a Gym Leader and I wasn't giving up for anything, and that was hands down the best education I could get. And I was a straight-A student the whole way through, but when I did get the occasional detention (sometimes for talking too much in class, other times because my skirt was too short), it was because of _her_.

Every morning, without fail, she'd turn up in the same grey overcoat. Like some kind of uniform. And it matched her personality perfectly. Sensible and stern and no fun at all. Just like everyone expects an ice-type Gym Leader to be.

Some people say that attitude is why she finally snapped and quit her job. Which I guess I should be thankful for, because I wouldn't be in charge of the gym now if she hadn't.

So Alicia's gotten it into her head that, consciously or not, I dress the way I do (read: my wardrobe is the stuff of Snowpoint legend, and I never wear grey, _ever_ ) to show the world I'm different.

But that's ridiculous, right? They're only clothes.

"Sorry about the mess," I tell Fantina. "I'll have it all put away before you know it."

When we're interrupted by a series of knocks just minutes later, I haven't done much more than take out my ponytails.

"I'll get it!" I rush to answer the door. It's got to be Maylene and Gardenia, dropping by to make plans for tonight.

But when I swing it open, I find myself staring helplessly at the last person I expected to see. Volkner. And he looks like he means business.

"Let's talk. Outside. _Now_."

* * *

My heart's pounding hard as I step into the hallway. What could he want?

Maybe I forgot to give him his room key and he's been out here this whole time. Maybe he got an emergency message from Cynthia and we're heading back to Sinnoh to fight off the latest band of terrorists. Or maybe he can't wait another second to unleash his inner demons on the Battle Subway.

Yeah. I like that. Let's go with that.

His voice is low, but unmistakably sharp. "What the hell were you thinking?"

Arceus, he's mad. So I guess the Subway is out.

"Care to explain how I wound up sharing a room with Crasher Wake?"

Oh. _That._ I might have accidentally-on-purpose forgotten to let Volkner know about that one minor detail.

"Have you _seen_ how busy this place is? Four rooms were all I could get."

I'm not joking. And even that took a solid week of bombarding the manager with insistent messages via phone, e-mail, and Delibird.

It wasn't supposed to play out like this. I thought for sure that Volkner would buddy up with Roark. But Gardenia told her boyfriend about our accommodations issue long before the retreat, and he let it slip to his dad. And once Byron realized he was facing the prospect of an entire weekend with Wake, he warned Roark in no uncertain terms that he'd better room with him or else.

And I wasn't going to tell Volkner that. I couldn't have him skipping out on the retreat altogether, could I?

"It'll be fine," I do my best to reassure him. "So Wake is a little out there. But—"

"A _little_ out there?" He's staring at me like I'm insane. "The guy dumps his luggage in the hallway, damn near rips the door off its hinges, and dive-bombs onto the couch yelling 'Crasher Wake is in the house!'"

I can't help it. The visual's just too much. I've dissolved into full-on giggles before I know it.

 _Great._ Now he's really going to be mad.

But when I work up the nerve to meet his eye, he's struggling not to laugh himself. Who would've thought? Volkner's got a sense of humor after all.

"I know it sucks," I say, once I regain my composure. "But I can't do a thing about it now. And you're not the only one complaining." I lean in close and soften my voice to a whisper. "I'm stuck with Fantina all weekend."

That was pretty much down to bad luck. We girls decided who'd be the odd one out with good old-fashioned rock-paper-scissors, and Gardenia was the first to lose.

But Gardenia was never an option to begin with. She's terrified of ghosts. Trust me—I can't even take my Froslass out of its Poké Ball when she's around. No way could she survive with Fantina and her team of six of them. (This was before we discovered the no-Pokémon-in-the-hotel rule. I really should've done my research on that one.) So Maylene and I played another round on our own, and I was the loser that time.

"Have fun with that." Volkner's tone couldn't be more sarcastic.

"I'll try," I say with a laugh. "Somehow I don't think I'll be spending much time in my room."

There's a flicker of interest in his eyes. "I was thinking the same thing."

A long silence passes between us, and all of a sudden I'm desperately racking my brain for a clever remark or a change of subject or anything— _anything_ will do. But all that's going through my head is those eyes are a million different shades of blue and I could get lost in them forever.

What were we talking about, again?

I should go. Quit while I'm ahead. "So…" I inch back toward the door. "I've got a lot to unpack…"

But Volkner cuts me off. "You wanna get out of here?"

I don't believe it. He almost looks like he doesn't quite believe it himself.

Do I? Is the sky blue? Does it snow in Snowpoint? Have I been waiting for this evening since the day we met?

"Or I could unpack tomorrow. Or never. Why bother unpacking at all?" I'm rambling now. I need to calm down ASAP before he hightails it out of here faster than a Rapidash on speed. "Just let me grab my purse."

So I retrieve it from my room, wave a quick goodbye to Fantina (who'll have to wait a few hours for me to get those clothes sorted—oh well, she'll live), and head back into the hallway to join Volkner for the night of a lifetime. But not before I whip out my phone and send a triumphant text message to Gardenia and Maylene.

_BEST. RETREAT. EVER. :D_

* * *

Ten minutes later, Volkner and I are walking side by side through the heart of Nimbasa's entertainment district. The streets are buzzing with noise, the city's alive with color, and I've never gotten so many jealous stares in my life. And this isn't even a _date_.

But all the girls craning their necks in envy as we pass them by—they don't know that. All they know is that he's with _me_. I feel a rush of excitement at the thought.

I should probably explain at this point that Volkner's nothing short of drop dead gorgeous. _Sinnoh Weekly's_ named him the Sexiest Trainer Alive for three years running, and there's not a single female at my gym who hasn't asked me if there's any chance she'll ever get to meet him.

(Not if I can help it. If there's one thing I don't need, it's competition. Aren't I having a hard enough time as it is?)

"So, where to?" I toss my hair over my shoulder, reveling in the attention we're getting.

"I should be asking you that. You're in charge, remember?" Volkner throws my earlier words back at me.

I stop at a corner to consider our next move. It's definitely too late to start on the Battle Subway. Good thing I've got someplace else in mind...

"Wanna check out the Ferris wheel?" I ask, trying not to sound too excited. "It's supposed to be a must-see."

I know I'm seriously pushing my luck here. But if he says yes…

"Might as well." He shrugs.

This night is so perfect, it's almost unreal. Would it be awkward if I asked Volkner to pinch me?

* * *

Halfway to the Ferris wheel, it occurs to me that there's one tiny downside to being all alone with your number one crush. Nobody's around to come to your rescue when you run out of things to say.

Which is not something I normally have to deal with. The opposite is more like it—Roark once said it'd take a Rock Slide to shut me up. But it's hard to know what to talk about with a guy like Volkner. Let's just say he's not exactly a chatterbox.

Thank Arceus for the enormous plastic Pikachu over there. Volkner's got a major soft spot for everyone's favorite electric mouse. I know this for a fact.

"I love Pikachu," I declare, gesturing toward the sculpture as we walk by. "Don't you?"

The strange look he gives me is _not_ the response I was hoping for.

"They're just the cutest little things. Plus they remind me of…" I trail off, feeling myself blush. I was about to say _you._ "Nothing."

"Of what?" He shoots me a sly sideways glance. "Don't leave me hanging."

"Of… of yellow. My favorite color." That's the best I can come up with?

"Yellow, huh? I would've guessed blue."

He's right. It _is_ blue. Wonder how he figured that one out. I mean, I do wear a lot of it. But that's not something Volkner would notice.

"So how about a picture?" Nothing like a distraction to end the most disastrous conversation in Unova history. And getting my own personal photo with him—that wouldn't be so terrible, either.

"I'll pass."

"Come on, Volkner. It's Pikachu. Your first Pokémon. You can't say no to that."

"You've been talking to Flint again, haven't you?" he accuses me. But he's resisting the urge to smile, I'm sure of it.

"Guilty," I say with a giggle. Flint is the perfect source of info on all things Volkner. He knows him better than anyone else. What he doesn't know is how to keep his mouth shut. In other words, it's win-win.

When I hand my phone to a nearby tourist to "take a picture of me and my friend," Volkner finally realizes I'm not backing down. "You're not going to give up, are you?"

I grin at him. "Nope."

Honestly. All I want is a memento of the soon-to-be greatest night of my life. Is that so much to ask for?

"Then let's get this over with." He takes his place beside me in front of the Pikachu, making a big show of his reluctance. And just as the flash is about to go off, he slips a casual arm around my shoulders. "Happy now?"

Oh, Volkner. You have _no_ idea.

"Not bad," I say, when I see the photo. And by _not bad_ , I mean I know what I'm using as my wallpaper for the next six months. "I'll send you a copy, 'kay?"

"If you want." He sounds like he couldn't care less.

Well, it doesn't bother me in the slightest. What matters is, he put his arm around me. That has to mean something.

Of course it doesn't mean anything. Everyone does that in pictures. What else would he do, stand off to the side with his arms crossed in annoyance?

You know, it _is_ Volkner. I can almost kind of see that happening.

* * *

As we reach the Ferris wheel, breathtaking white with glittering lights, I pause to let it all sink in.

"Just _look_ at it," I gasp out. Up close, it's twice the size I imagined it to be, not to mention ten times more romantic.

"Would you look at that," Volkner echoes, sounding equally awestruck. Which is _so_ not like him.

Just as I thought. He's staring right past it. At—

Oh, no. This can't be good.

His eyes are wide with excitement. "Is that… a gym?"

For one fleeting moment, I wonder if I could somehow convince Volkner that, no, it's not a gym. Who builds a gym next to a Ferris wheel? It's obviously a gift shop.

But it's written right there. _Nimbasa City Pokémon Gym_. I nod miserably, watching my dreams shatter before my eyes. "That's a gym, all right."

"Then what are we waiting for?"

Thanks a lot, Nimbasa. I was _this_ close.

"We'll never get in this time of night," I argue, but I know there's no stopping him now. Nothing gets between Volkner and a tough battle, and I mean nothing. I might as well go home.

"One way to find out." He starts toward the automatic doors, and all I can do is hope.

_Don't open. Don't open. Don't open..._

They do.

"Well, how about that?" He grins.

And we enter a gym like I've never seen before.

Let me just say—I've been to some fantastic gyms in my lifetime. Gardenia's flower gardens are gorgeous. I don't mean to brag, but the ice back at mine is nothing to joke about. And Volkner's... that place is so high-voltage, even the Sunyshore power grid has trouble standing up to it.

(Which, actually, is starting to become a Sinnoh-wide issue. He should really take a break from all the renovating and sort that out sometime. But I'm not going to be the one to say so.)

But this… even Volkner's gym doesn't compare. Everywhere I turn I see roller coasters, sprawling throughout the building in a maze that all but the most stubborn challengers would balk at. I can't even begin to comprehend the mechanics of this setup.

Volkner does, I'm sure. I don't think I've ever seen him look so… thunderstruck. For lack of a better word.

"Jealous?" I ask teasingly.

"You bet."

"Blows your mind, doesn't it?" A third voice—a confident female one—fills the air, and suddenly we're face to face with the most unfairly beautiful girl I've ever encountered. "Welcome to my gym. I'm Elesa."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Up next: Candice feels like the odd girl out as Volkner and Elesa hit it off big time. But she's not about to give up just yet..._


	3. Frustration

_senirasushipping — because no one ever fell in love gracefully_

* * *

It's Elesa. _The_ Elesa. I'm not one to get starstruck, but…

Oh, who am I kidding? Here I am, shaking hands with the biggest name in the fashion world. I've never been so starstruck in my life.

"It's so amazing to meet you!" I tell her. "I'm Candice. _Love_ your work."

As she says her thanks, I can only imagine what lies ahead. We're going to be great friends, I just know it. Maybe she'll even let me tag along to a photo shoot while I'm here.

This retreat is getting crazier by the minute. Who'd have thought I'd run into a supermodel? It's almost enough to make me forget that I'd be on the Ferris wheel in Volkner's arms by now if it weren't for Elesa and her gym.

_Almost._

"Volkner." He introduces himself in a single word, and his gaze lingers on her for longer than I can handle. "I like what you've done with the place."

"Glad to hear it. I designed it myself."

Life is so unfair. Some people are good at _everything._

"Makes my gym look like crap." He laughs dryly, and I cross my arms in annoyance. When Volkner saw _my_ gym for the first time, all he said was, "Aren't you cold?"

"So you're a Gym Leader." She flashes him her trademark megawatt smile—the same one I've seen on three different magazine covers this month alone. "I like you already."

A surge of jealousy courses through me, but I force myself to relax. Everyone knows girls like Elesa are always attached to pro athletes or A-list actors or rock stars. I've got nothing to worry about.

But that's not what she told that reporter on _The Fashion Show_ last week. "I'm single as a Wingull," she quipped, to the collective groan of everyone everywhere.

Forget what I said about making friends and going to photo shoots. I hate her.

"From Sinnoh. So's Candice." Volkner doesn't seem the least bit fazed by her fame. In fact, the way he's carrying on, you'd think he'd never even heard of Elesa.

Which, knowing him, is probably about right. "You have no idea who you're talking to, do you?"

"Why, have we met before?"

I knew he'd say something like that. Now she just needs to take it like the diva she is, and he'll be so turned off that even her state-of-the-art gym won't be enough to make up for it.

"Elesa's the top model of top models." It's what all the fashion blogs are calling her these days, and it comes out with more resentment than I intend. "Funny he hasn't heard of you," I can't resist adding, with a smug glance in her direction.

"I do some modeling in my spare time," she explains indifferently. Which doesn't help me at _all_.

"That's great." Volkner brushes off the news like it's nothing. "But honestly, I'm a lot more interested in your gym."

"Really?" Elesa's face has lit up in a big way. Needless to say, this is not going as planned.

"I'd give anything for a match here. If you're not too busy working the runway, that is."

"Oh, I'm sure I can fit you in somewhere." She's on to her second-most famous smile now—the one she uses for racier shoots and lingerie ads.

I don't believe this. Five minutes and they're flirting like crazy.

"Good. I'll be ready for it."

"Well, Volkner, I think you're in for a shock."

"Don't tell me." His voice is incredulous. "You train electric types."

She tosses a Poké Ball into the air and a Tynamo emerges, bouncing from wall to wall like a stray bolt of lightning. "Nothing but the best."

"Can't argue with that. So do I."

"I use the ice type myself," I say, but no one's paying attention to me anymore.

Oh, for Arceus' sake. They're completely taken with each other. I could probably walk out the door right now, and Volkner wouldn't even notice.

* * *

This is bad. Really bad. Ever since they discovered their shared love of all things electric, Volkner and Elesa have been talking nonstop.

 _Volkner_. Talking nonstop. Now there's something I never thought I'd see.

They've gone over everything from how to install a backup generator to where to find one of those elusive Volt Switch TMs. (Turns out Elesa's got a box of them sitting in the control room. Why am I not surprised?) They even spent ten whole minutes debating the merits of Thunder versus Thunderbolt. And when I asked what the difference was—they always looked like the exact same attack to me—they just glanced at each other and laughed.

And it gets worse. I mean, _look_ at Elesa. She's every bit as stunning as she is in pictures. I'm talking flawless skin, legs for days, and that ultra-short haircut that's all the rage right now. If I had that done, I'd look like a boy. On her, it's chic as anything.

That dress must be a designer original— _haute couture_ , as Fantina would call it. And don't get me started on those shoes. Her five-inch electric yellow pumps are the talk of the catwalk, and I know for a fact that you can't even buy them yet. But when you've got the entire industry groveling at your feet, I guess that's hardly an issue.

I finger the hem of the pleated skirt that seemed so cute when I put it on and suddenly feel like a fashion failure. Every inch of Elesa's ensemble screams sophisticated and urbane. Next to her, I might as well still be in Trainers' School.

"Sorry, Candice." Her voice interrupts my thoughts, and I realize I've been staring. "Were you saying something?"

"I was just wondering about… your dress," I improvise. "I've never seen anything like it. Is it new?"

Volkner gives it an appreciative once-over. "That _is_ one hell of a dress."

"I wore it in a show last week," Elesa replies offhandedly. "So I guess you could say it's hot off the runway."

And I open my big mouth before I can stop myself. "Maybe it should've stayed there."

For the next few moments, no one says anything. But I know what they're thinking. Just what is my problem, anyway? I'm gazing blankly across the room, half-wishing that pesky little Tynamo would make a wrong turn and electrocute me on the spot, when Elesa finally speaks.

"So. How'd you guys like to try out the roller coaster?"

She's obviously trying to smooth things over. Which is pretty nice of her. And just so happens to make her look like the very picture of class and grace while I'm stuck looking like the jealous type.

Well played, Elesa. Well played.

* * *

Just as I've come to expect from everyone's favorite supermodel, the ride is nothing less than sensational. I'm literally on the edge of my seat, and Volkner and I are mere inches apart, thanks to those oh-so-convenient shoulder restraints. But I'm too busy feeling sorry for myself to enjoy any of it.

I don't know how to design a roller coaster. I don't know the difference between Thunderbolt and Thunder. I don't even know what a generator's for. I've never been to a fashion show, let alone been in one. I don't own any _couture_. The last time I tried to walk in five-inch heels, my Abomasnow had to carry me home.

In other words, there's no way I can compete with Elesa. Why bother trying?

But as we come to a stop, I realize I've been clutching Volkner's arm all along. I really don't want to lose him, do I?

 _Well, I won't_ , I tell myself, with one last burst of determination. Then he bolts from the car without even thinking to help me up. Which so figures.

"That was amazing," he says to Elesa, as I barely manage on my own. Getting out of one of these in a miniskirt is a lot harder than you'd think.

"It was alright." I do my best to sound unimpressed. "Try skiing down a fifty-degree slope. Now that's amazing."

At least, that's what the guys at my gym say. I've only done it once, on a dare. And I lasted maybe ten seconds before I called out every single one of my Pokémon to get me down the hill in one piece. But they don't need to know that.

Volkner doesn't seem convinced. "Says the girl who was clinging to me for dear life."

 _Yeah, for entirely different reasons._ But I can't exactly say so.

Oh, what the heck. If I'm going down no matter what, I might as well go down fighting.

"Can I help it if I can't keep my hands off you?" I say, and feel the heat rushing to my cheeks in an instant. No wonder I don't flirt like this more often.

"You can't, huh?" He's giving me that penetrating look of his—the one that never fails to make me all faint and fluttery inside.

So of course Elesa has to go and ruin everything. "Volkner, I was thinking. Has anyone ever told you that you could be a model?"

Arceus, she's shameless. Can't she see we're having a moment here?

(Though I have to admit, he does look the part. But still.)

"My agent would be _all_ over you. Why don't I give you her number?"

"Don't bother," he scoffs. "I'm not interested."

You hear that, Elesa? He's not interested. So _there_.

But then a wry smile spreads across his face. "You can give me yours, though."

This is ridiculous. We never should have come to Nimbasa. Never.

* * *

I couldn't take it anymore. I had to get out of there. So when Volkner ignored my million and one hints about wanting to leave and asked to take a look at the control panel (Elesa said sure—what else?), I feigned jet lag and went back to the hotel on my own.

Gardenia and Maylene fling their door open after a single knock, like they've been waiting up all night. They come at me with so many questions, I can only make out a few. Like "What happened?" and "Tell us everything," and "So does Volkner kiss anything like he battles?"

Maybe if Elesa hadn't come along, I'd actually know the answer by now.

I push past them both and flop down on the nearest bed. "Worst. Retreat. Ever."

There's silence for a moment, until Maylene points out the obvious. "That's not what it said in your text."

"That was before we met the Gym Leader. If you saw her, you'd understand. And you'll never guess what kind of Pokémon she uses."

"Grass?" Gardenia asks hopefully.

"Electric. It had to be electric." I let out a miserable sigh. "First all he wanted was to check out the gym. Then he challenged her to a battle. The next thing I knew, he was getting her number." I laugh bitterly. "Elesa's the worst."

" _The_ Elesa?" Maylene's eyes are wide.

"That's the one."

"Wow. You've got your work cut out for you. Not that she's prettier than you or anything," she quickly adds.

"Let's be real." I bury my face in a pillow. "I don't have a chance."

* * *

There's not much that can cheer me up tonight, but I have to give my friends credit for trying. Half an hour later, Maylene's moved all the furniture out of our way, and Gardenia's arranged the bedding into makeshift sleeping bags. I don't care what anyone says—you're never too old for a slumber party.

I've gone back to my room and changed into my coziest pajamas. (And assured Fantina several times that, yes, I _am_ going to do something about those clothes on the floor. Eventually. When I feel better.) And we've just about finished all the candy in the minibar. All that's missing is a game of truth or dare.

Which I'm not even going to suggest. It wouldn't be ten seconds before Gardenia dared me to tell Volkner I love him once and for all. Or show up at his door in a negligee.

"I don't know how you let this happen," she's saying to me now. "You love fashion. You love Pokémon. And you had no idea about the supermodel Gym Leader down the street from our hotel?"

"I had a lot on my mind, okay?" Like a certain other electric Gym Leader. And that fairy-tale Ferris wheel fantasy that's practically a pipe dream now. We only made it as far as that stupid Pikachu.

Which reminds me. At least one good thing came out of this.

I bring up the picture on my phone. "Look at us. How did it all go so wrong so fast?"

Gardenia studies it with disbelief. "What'd he do, lose a bet? He's got his arm around you and everything."

"Nope. And if you turn it a quarter of an inch this way…" I angle my phone to the left. "It almost kind of looks like he's smiling."

They both burst out laughing. "Oh, Candice."

"It does! So how do I get from this…" I point at my frowning reflection in the mirror, now a far cry from the starry-eyed, lovestruck girl in the photo. "Back to that?"

"You'll figure it out," Maylene reassures me. "Just focus."

Of course. Pokémon, fashion, romance… it's all about focus. Those are the words I live by, and I let it be known every time a challenger walks into my gym. When my heart's set on something, watch out, world—and I'm not just talking about winning battles. Some even say it's what got me where I am today.

The only downside is that sometimes I get a little _too_ focused, or so I've been told. Gardenia likes to call it obsessed, but I wouldn't go that far.

And no, she doesn't mean with Volkner. Obviously, that's different.

"Well, you know what I think," Gardenia begins, and I can already guess what's going to come next. "Just tell him how you feel. Or ask him out—before Elesa beats you to it."

"Are you crazy?"

"Hey, you've gotta be bold if you wanna get the guy."

That's Gardenia's philosophy. One day, she realized Roark was a total catch under all that mining gear. The next day, she paid a surprise visit to the Oreburgh Gym. He asked her what she was doing there. She kissed him right on the lips. And it must have worked, because they've been together ever since.

In fact, it's probably the _only_ thing that would've worked, because Roark's too much of an oblivious fossil brain to get his attention any other way. But you didn't hear that from me.

Every so often, when it hits me that I've been chasing Volkner my entire Pokémon League career with no progress to speak of, I promise myself I'll take her advice. But then he gets that smirk on his face, and I just can't see it through.

Believe me, I've tried. Like last month at the Battleground, when I pulled him aside and told him I really liked… his shirt. And to make matters worse, it was a basic black one, so then I had to pretend like minimalism was the latest thing in fashion and anyone who was anyone was wearing plain t-shirts. Somehow, I don't think he bought it.

"Maybe not _that_ bold," I insist. "If he says no, it'll be one awkward weekend."

"And if he doesn't?"

"That's a big if."

"Candice, I don't get it," Maylene speaks up. "You're always so positive. But when it comes to Volkner, you're, well…"

"A mess?"

"You said it, not me."

"Right. And I'm sure if Aaron went off with some world-famous model, you'd be just fine?"

That was a cheap shot, I know. But she started it.

Maylene's been spending tons of time with the newest member of our Elite Four, and I've got a sneaking suspicion she's after more than just training sessions. When I first met her, she was the definition of the word tomboy. Then Aaron came into the picture, and all of a sudden she was asking to borrow accessories. What's next, a makeup tutorial?

Actually, I'd enjoy that. Here's hoping.

"What does Aaron have to do with anything?" Her voice has gone up a whole octave, and her face is as pink as her hair. There's no doubt about it—she's got it bad.

Gardenia shoots me a knowing grin. "Something tells me Candice isn't the only one with a crush around here."

"Okay," Maylene mumbles. "IguessIkindalikehim."

"What was that?" I can't help but tease.

" _I like Aaron,_ _all_ _right_?" She's shouting so loudly, I cover my ears with a pillow. "D-do you think anyone heard that?"

I think the entire hotel heard that. "Um… no?"

"Definitely." Gardenia nods. She may be one of the nicest people ever, but she sure doesn't sugarcoat.

"Well, it's about time you set your sights on someone," I tell Maylene, making no attempt to hide my excitement. "We can crush together now!"

(And no, I'm not twelve years old. Just for the record.)

"Or you could _do_ something about your crush," Gardenia counters, with a meaningful glance at me. "And we could double date together."

Maylene looks doubtful. "I knew I shouldn't have said anything."

But I can already tell we're going to have a blast. "Next time the League calls a meeting, we can get ready at my place. And after, we'll stop for ice cream and go over every word they said to us!"

"Um, is that supposed to be fun?"

Gardenia doesn't even try to hold back her laughter. "That depends who you ask."

* * *

Long after we've called it a night, I'm still thinking about our conversation. It might take all the focus I've got in me, but I know I can figure this out. And if there was ever a time to be bold, it's now.

Don't get the wrong idea. I'm not going to throw myself at Volkner or anything. But I can't back off and let Elesa have her way, or it's all over. At the rate they're going, they'll be an item by the time we're done here. And then he'll be off-limits. Taken. Lost in long-distance limbo—at least, until they finally realize it's never going to work. But if the whole Jasmine debacle was any indication, that could take a _while_.

It's obvious, isn't it? There's no choice but to step in before things go any further. I don't need a miracle. I just need a way to keep Elesa out of the picture until we're gone from Nimbasa for good.

Then I remember what I told Volkner earlier today, and the answer comes to me like an Avalanche.

_I'm in charge, remember?_

"I've got it," I say. "I know what I have to do."

But no one's awake to hear it. Honestly. You'd think they'd be a little more excited for me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Up next: Volkner's spending the day with Elesa... or is he? Not if Candice can help it._


	4. Pursuit

_senirasushipping — because some battles are too important to lose_

* * *

Crushes are a lot like wild Pokémon. You never see them coming. If you're not careful, you can really get hurt. And you can't wait too long to make your move, or someone else might turn up out of nowhere and catch the one you want.

Now that Elesa's reared her not-so-ugly head, I can't afford to waste another minute. Which is why I spent the entire morning holed up in my room with Gardenia and Maylene, trying on outfit after outfit until we found a winner.

Well, _I_ tried on outfits. They sat around and flipped through channels and rolled their eyes at questions like "Does this dress make me look sophisticated?" and "Yeah, but more sophisticated than _her_?"

Whatever. It was worth it. In the end, we settled on a sheer white blouse over a matching cami, paired with a pale lilac skirt and sky-high heels. (Not quite five inches this time—I've learned my lesson. Four and a half is good enough for me.) As we make our way through the hotel lobby, I feel like I've just stepped out of a fashion spread.

Which is nothing compared to actually being in fashion spreads. But I'm fine with that. My days of trying—and failing—to compete with Elesa are over. Her face could be plastered across every billboard in Nimbasa, and I wouldn't mind in the least. Because I've got a plan.

I'm the one in charge here. So if I don't want Volkner hanging out with her, I don't have to let him.

Only I haven't quite worked out how I'm supposed to do that. I mean, I can't exactly institute a No Models rule, can I?

I'm wondering if No Foreign Gym Leaders would be any better when Maylene nudges me. "Don't look now, but he's out there on the patio. Second table on the left."

Too late. I can't look away. Volkner's not wearing his jacket for a change, and… _Arceus_. I still don't know what he does when he's "busy with the gym," but if it gives him arms like that, I'll never complain again.

"What are you waiting for?" Gardenia's already cheering me on. "Go talk to him!"

"Now?" After what went down with Elesa, I'm fearing the worst. "But what if he's meeting someone? What if it's her?"

She grins wickedly at me. "Then you'd better get to him first."

* * *

As I venture out onto the patio, I can't help but hesitate. With every move in Volkner's direction, yesterday comes flooding back. I let jealousy get the best of me. I acted like one of those token mean girls on TV. I said I couldn't keep my hands off him, for crying out loud. So it's no surprise that I'm having doubts about this whole talking to him thing.

Which is not to say that I'm nervous. I'm simply considering my options.

For instance, I could go right up to Volkner and say hi. That's one option. I could casually walk on by and pretend to spot him out of the corner of my eye. That's another option. Or I could turn and run. But then I'd never hear the end of it.

A woman in a hostess uniform taps me on the shoulder. "Can I help you?"

"No, thanks." I don't see what the big deal is. I've only been hiding—I mean, standing behind this potted plant for two minutes. "I'm just checking out the patio."

But Volkner's head jerks up at the sound of my voice, and before I can dart out of sight, he waves me over. Looks like I've only got one option now.

"Imagine running into you here," I say as I approach, in case he thinks I'm stalking him or something. "I was just—"

"Checking out the patio. I heard." He takes a sip of his coffee. "Have a seat."

"Might as well." I fake a casual tone, but inside, I'm ecstatic with relief. He wouldn't say that if he'd had it with me. And he sure wouldn't say that if he was waiting for Elesa. I sit down opposite him, smiling to myself as I notice the familiar blue jacket hanging on the back of my chair. So that's where it went.

"I'll get that out of your way," he offers, and I reluctantly hand it over. Does he _have_ to?

See, I have this thing about Volkner's jacket. The military look does it for me like no other, and I can't get over the way it matches his eyes exactly. I'd give anything to wear it. I even bought the perfect skirt to go with it. Now all I need to do is get us caught in a sudden rainstorm.

"Did you manage to get some rest?" Volkner's asking me, and I blink at him in confusion.

Oh, right. I'm supposed to be jetlagged. "Yeah, I did. Sorry if I wasn't myself last night. The time change really did a number on me."

Not bad. That can be my excuse for everything.

"I'll say." The corners of his mouth twist upward. "Never thought I'd see you in a mood like that."

"I can think of a few times I've seen _you_ like that." Like when Aaron got the Elite Four spot that had Volkner's name on it—or so we all thought. Or when Cynthia reamed him out in front of the entire Sinnoh League for handing out badges like candy. But it's probably best that I don't bring them up.

He lets out a low chuckle. "Sounds about right."

And now that my fears have been put to rest, I realize—this couldn't have worked out better if I'd planned it. I'm gazing back at Volkner across a gleaming glass table topped with a single white orchid, and there's just the right amount of sunshine beaming down on us. What more could a girl want?

After our waitress makes her rounds (I order an iced latte, Volkner's fine for now), he leans in toward me. "So, you know where they're going for the Elite retreat? Lavaridge, of all places."

"Why there?" Flint's in charge of that one, and if I know him, his reasons will be utterly ridiculous and yet totally awesome at the same time.

"That's easy," Volkner tells me. "It's got hot springs and fire Pokémon galore."

Funny how he's actually making the effort to carry on a conversation for once. He must've had a few good battles lately. It's the only possible explanation for this. Either that, or he and Elesa got it on in the control room last night and now he's on top of the world.

I try not to think about it. "The Pokémon, I get. But what does Flint care about hot springs?"

He lowers his voice a notch. "Between you and me, I think he just wants to see Cynthia in a bikini."

Flint's a smart guy. Why didn't we go to Lavaridge? I could've worn all kinds of cute bikinis and seen Volkner shirtless.

I can picture us now, alone in the spring, staring up at the star-dotted sky. He'll utter my name and I'll turn to face him, taken by the sight of his blond hair glinting in the moonlight and the droplets of water glistening on his chest.

Somewhere far, far away, it occurs to me that this is no time to be daydreaming. But I'm just getting to the good part.

The air will be thick with steam. We'll be delirious with heat, unthinking, and unable to resist. I'll press my lips to his, letting my every impulse take over. And he'll kiss me relentlessly and I'll melt into his arms and we'll never ever want to let go…

" _Volkner_ ," I'll whisper in his ear, sighing contentedly as his hands wander down my back.

"Candice," he'll reply, in a voice that all but kills the moment. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Wait. _What?_

Oh, Arceus. I knew this wasn't the time.

"I wasn't looking at anything! Just thinking. About… about…"

Volkner. Hot springs. The feeling of his skin on mine as we—

Stop. Just _stop_.

One thing's for sure—I can't look at him after that. As I drag my thoughts back to the present, my gaze drops to my feet. "Shoes," I blurt out. For some reason.

"You must _really_ love shoes. You should've seen your face."

He's laughing at me. What did I say that for? I could've said something clever, like ancient Pastorian battle theory. (Believe it or not, I know exactly what that is. You don't get to be a Gym Leader straight out of Trainer's School without doing some serious studying.) I could've said something Volkner would definitely be into, like my no-fail Subway Boss strategy. (Which, strictly speaking, I don't actually have. But it doesn't sound too hard to make up.)

But no. I had to say _shoes_.

"So, Volkner, you have plans for today?" With any luck, he won't, and we can hit up the Battle Subway, just the two of us. Then I can stop putting my foot in my mouth and start showing him what I'm made of. And maybe get a congratulatory hug or two in the process.

"Nothing much." He shrugs. "Just meeting up with Elesa this afternoon."

No. Not that. Anything but that.

"You can't!" I protest, before I think better of it. Didn't he get enough of the Thunderbolt/Thunder debate the first time around?

"What do you mean, I can't? Don't tell me you're—"

"Jealous?" I force out a laugh. "Why would I be jealous?"

"Planning something," he finishes with raised eyebrows. "Why _would_ you be jealous?"

That's it. The next time Volkner asks me to have a seat, I'm telling him thanks but no thanks. I'm not falling for it. It's a trap.

But what's done is done. It's no use freaking out about what I said. And it's no use pouting over the truth—that I'm so jealous, it hurts. The important thing now is to focus.

Come on, _think_. How can I fix this?

"Actually, I've got plans for us already," I find myself saying. "So you'd better call Elesa and cancel."

It's the answer I've been searching for all along. I'll just cram this retreat full of activities, and Volkner won't have a moment to spare. Elesa won't know what hit her.

Sure, we don't have any plans. But I can make plans. There are a million things to do in Nimbasa. Right now, I only have to come up with one.

Frantically, I scan our surroundings for inspiration. There's a group of corporate bigshots discussing business. A sunglasses-wearing woman with a five-table entourage. Two guys in football jerseys eating burgers.

There. That'll have to do. "We're going to the football game!" I tell him, before the inevitable next question— _what plans?_ And right away, he gets that look on his face. The one he always gets when he's up to no good.

"I wasn't aware we had a date."

Is he _trying_ to make me blush? Because I'm pretty sure it's working. "Everyone's going. All part of the retreat. Didn't you hear?"

"So much for doing our own thing."

"Um, about that…" I fall back on my favorite excuse—besides jet lag, that is. "Blame the League. They said it wouldn't do much for inter-leader relations if we all went off on our own, so…"

"Well, you can tell them to take their inter-leader relations and shove it."

"Is that what you want?" I ask innocently. "Because last I heard, you were on thin ice after that whole badge scandal."

Yeah, I went there. But desperate times call for desperate measures.

"Tell me about it." In true Volkner fashion, he doesn't seem concerned in the least.

"I bet Cynthia would love to hear this." I retrieve my phone from my purse, remembering just in time to cover the screen so he won't see our picture on it. (On second thought, I probably should've saved that wallpaper for after the retreat. I'll change it back later. When he's not looking.)

His eyes narrow in suspicion. "Are you threatening me?"

"What, don't think I'll go through with it?"

"You wouldn't."

I flash him a naughty grin. "Watch me."

But he knows me well. I wouldn't. Which is why I'm not calling Cynthia at all.

" _Thank you for calling the Snowpoint Gym_ ," a robotic voice plays back at me. " _Our hours are Monday through Friday_ …"

"Cynthia, it's Candice. How are you?"

" _To schedule a battle, press one. To request a rematch, press two…"_

"You know, I'm glad you asked. Everything's great. Only I'm having a little trouble with Volkner." I pause for a few moments, then laugh. "Yeah, I'm not surprised either."

"She won't care," Volkner interrupts. But I can hear it in his voice. He's getting worried.

_"To inquire about training opportunities, press six..."_

"Teach him a lesson?" I giggle, ignoring him completely. "Sure, why not?"

"Thanks, Candice. Thanks a lot."

 _"For all other queries, press nine. To hear these options again…_ "

Okay. Here goes nothing.

"Isn't that kind of harsh? I mean, I know he's caused some problems over the years. But slashing his reno budget in half…" I trail off, suppressing a smile as Volkner's jaw drops.

"Give me that phone. Now."

"Can't you just, I don't know, lecture him instead?"

"Fine." He slams a fist down on the table. "I'll go, all right?"

"I thought that might change your mind." I put my phone back into my bag with a triumphant flourish. How do you like that, Volkner? I win. You lose.

So why doesn't he _look_ like he's lost?

I'll never understand him. One minute, he's at my mercy. The next minute, he's leaning back in his chair like he owns the place. "Don't you think it's rude, hanging up on Cynthia like that?"

 _Oh_. Oh no.

"I didn't hang up on her!" I lie desperately. "She hung up on me!"

But he's not buying it. Not even close. "You weren't on the phone at all, were you?"

What's the point? He's caught me. "I was. With my gym's automated answering service. Did you really think I'd do that?"

"I didn't," he admits. "But you were pretty convincing." And he's looking at me with the strangest expression—almost like he's impressed. "You have an automated answering service?"

"Yeah. You should try it. It's great for avoiding calls from the League," I tease. "Not that _I_ ever need to."

"Or faking calls to the League," he teases me right back. "Tell you what. If you want me at the game that badly, then I guess Elesa can wait."

"Good." Here's hoping she'll be waiting all weekend.

Take that, Elesa. Mission accomplished. Now all I have to do is show up at the stadium, and I'm set.

Assuming, of course, that there _is_ a game today. And they're still selling tickets. And I can convince everyone else to come, so it won't look like I made this whole thing up at the last minute to keep Volkner occupied. Which I did. But he's not supposed to know that.

"So when's football?" It's like he's reading my mind.

"Speaking of football…" I practically jump out of my seat. "I've got a few errands to run first. I'll text you about the time, 'kay?"

And as soon as I'm out of Volkner's sight, I reach for my phone once more. I'm going to need all the help I can get.

* * *

I have the best friends in the world. The moment I called them up and told them what I'd done, they sprang into action. Half an hour later, Maylene's helped me gather everyone in the sixteenth floor lounge, and Gardenia's somehow managed to get a hold of eight football tickets, all in the same row.

Turns out they really are having a game this afternoon. Call it luck, but I knew those guys weren't dressed in jerseys for no reason.

Okay, fine. It was luck. And, if I'm being honest, my plan wasn't met with incredible enthusiasm, either. Maylene was looking forward to checking out the Battle Institute today. And Gardenia couldn't resist pointing out that all this would've been avoided if only I'd swallowed my pride and told Volkner _exactly_ why I was jealous. But, hey, what are friends for?

Now, as I stand before my fellow Gym Leaders, I'm thinking I might actually pull this thing off. There's only one problem. None of us like football.

"But you can't go to Nimbasa and not watch football!" I argue. "It's what Unova culture is all about. These people never miss a game!"

"I wouldn't mind missing the game," Byron mutters under his breath, to a chorus of laughter.

Truth be told, on any other day, neither would I. But unless I want Volkner and Elesa running off into the sunset together, I've got to get us all board. So just call me Sinnoh's biggest football fan for now.

"Don't mess with her," Volkner warns, with more than a hint of sarcasm. "She'll call Cynthia on you."

I've got a bad feeling about this. But if it worked on him…

"That's right. It's mandatory. And if you give me a hard time, I… just might have to." My voice falters a little. "But don't worry, it'll be fun!" I add, hoping my excitement will catch on. "Football's only the greatest sport _ever_."

"What happened to ice skating?" asks Roark. I take it Gardenia hasn't filled him in on our plan.

"And skiing," Volkner puts in, though there's something not quite serious about his tone. If he thinks I'm going down another fifty-degree slope…

"Are you kidding? This girl can't ski to save her life." Maylene laughs—at least, until she spots me frantically shaking my head. That's not what I told Volkner last night.

"Look at the time!" I make a grand gesture out of checking my phone, waving it around so everyone can see. "We're going to be late!"

No, we're not. But thankfully, nobody calls me on it, so we're off. And as we leave for the stadium, some of us more willingly than others, Volkner falls into step beside me, smirking like he's got me all figured out.

"So, Candice. Nice wallpaper."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Up next: Candice sits next to Volkner at the game. He makes her wish she hadn't._


	5. Facade

_senirasushipping — because the teasing says it all_

* * *

I'm not going to worry about the wallpaper thing. No, seriously. I'm not.

So what if I've got our picture staring back at me every time I take a call or check my texts? That doesn't prove anything. Maybe I happen to think I look really good in it. Or that Pikachu sculpture in the background is too cute to resist.

Which is exactly what I told him when we took it. _I love Pikachu._ Not Volkner. For all he knows, I don't even _like_ him.

As we enter the stadium, I'm feeling pretty good about where we stand. He was like, "Nice wallpaper," and I was like, "I know, right?" and that was the end of that. And he hasn't mentioned it ever since.

Granted, I haven't actually spoken to him since. Not because of what happened. Because I've got other things to deal with and other people to talk to. It isn't all about Volkner, you know?

Come to think of it, where _is_ Volkner, anyway?

I don't see him until just before game time, when he reappears at my side with a beer. "Looks like it's you and me again," he remarks, comparing our tickets. "Why am I not surprised?"

Okay, so there's a slight possibility that he's somehow gotten it into his head that I might maybe kind of sort of like him. Just a little bit.

But I won't let it bother me, I swear.

Only this seating arrangement isn't helping. Fantina's at the end of our row, garnering more than a few strange looks as her billowy skirt spills out into the aisle. Next to her is Wake, strategically placed as far from everyone else as possible. Roark's got Byron on his left side and Gardenia on his right. Maylene's between Gardenia and an empty chair, soon to belong to yours truly.

And Volkner? He'll be on the other end, beside me and nobody we know.

I never should have let Gardenia take care of the tickets. I mean, how obvious can you get? She might as well have put us in a private suite full of heart-shaped balloons and pink confetti. Or paid someone to write _Candice Loves Volkner_ on the jumbotron.

As we climb over the others to get to our seats, I'm so flustered, I actually trip.

"Careful." He catches me by the elbow, and I feel a faint blush come over me. "Next time you go to a football game, you might want to rethink those shoes."

To be fair, I had no idea I'd be going to a football game in these shoes. But Volkner thinks I've been planning this all along, so I've got to keep my mouth shut.

And for once, I do. I sit down without a word. I try in vain to position myself comfortably in my cramped plastic chair. I cross one leg over the other, and almost pull a muscle in the process.

Next time I go to a football game—which is hopefully never—I might want to rethink the miniskirt, too.

"I didn't know you were a fan of football," he comments, as the game begins.

"I'm a huge fan," I tell him, with a huge smile to match. "Isn't everyone?"

That's a lie, needless to say. But I've already called it the greatest sport ever. I can't go back on that now, can I?

So I give my hair a playful little flip and lower my voice flirtatiously—if I'm going to be here with Volkner all afternoon, you can bet I'll be making the most of it. "There are a lot of things you don't know about me."

"Really." He eyes me with suspicion. "Who's your favorite player?"

Suddenly, I get the feeling I'm in trouble. How did I not see that coming?

"Don't make me choose," I beg. "There are so many good ones." And I turn the other way and feign interest in what Gardenia's saying to Maylene—that she'd rather be in Mistralton, touring its world-famous vegetable gardens.

But Volkner leans over toward me. "If you had to pick."

"If I had to," I repeat, struggling to focus as his knee brushes against mine. Football players. Haven't I heard of any?

Oh, forget it. I'll just make one up. He won't know every player who's ever lived, will he?

"Chad… Mistralton."

"Mistralton, huh? Like the city?"

"Yeah. He, um, owns it."

"They must pay him a lot if he can afford to buy a city." Volkner's teeth are clenched, like he's trying not to laugh.

"Well, they do. He's _that_ good," I insist, cringing inwardly all the while. Why didn't I say he changed his name to honor his hometown, or something?

"Never heard of him. What position does he play?"

He's testing me. He has to be. Now if only I could think of one.

Shortstop? That doesn't sound like football to me. Striker? I'm not so sure about that, either. Not to mention he still hasn't moved his knee. How does he expect me to think at all?

"Goalie," I say eventually. Every sport has a goalie.

Except basketball. And baseball. But Volkner's smiling at me, so I must be right.

…Right?

* * *

Don't get me wrong. I'm not hopeless when it comes to sports. It's just that no one in Snowpoint watches football. If this was ice hockey, I could go on forever.

But it's not, and it's almost like Volkner _knows_ I don't have a clue. Ever since the first whistle, he's been grilling me with questions like "So how about that turnover?" and "What do you think of the quarterback?" (I said "Not much." Then it turned out that quarterback was a football hero and he'd already scored his team twelve goals. Or points. Or whatever.)

So now I'm pretending not to hear him because I'm caught up in the action. Which is a lot harder than it sounds. All these guys seem to do is run up and down the field and knock each other over.

And that's when I notice. There's no goalie.

I glance at Volkner nervously. "Remember when I told you Chad Driftveil was a goalie? I meant quarterback."

He chokes on his beer mid-sip, but he's grinning in spite of it all. "Remember when you told me his name was Chad Mistralton? Because I do."

 _Busted_. See what happens to me when Volkner's around?

The mature thing now would be to come clean. Admit Chad What's-His-Name is about as real as Mewthree and I wouldn't know football if one hit me in the face. But then I get a better idea.

"Popcorn! Get your popcorn!" shouts a voice from behind us.

That's my out, right there.

"I'll take one!" I call as loudly as I can, ignoring Volkner's look of utter disbelief. If that's not luck, I don't know what is. Why fess up when you can buy a bag of popcorn and avoid the subject altogether? And that's exactly what I do. Even if I don't want any in the first place.

I smile brightly at Volkner. "Nothing like popcorn when you're watching the game."

"You hate popcorn," he points out.

"Says who?"

"You did. When we saw _Aggron Attacks_. Said it was disgusting."

How does he keep track of these things? All I remember is that Aggron movie was the worst I've ever been to. I like horror films about as much as I like football, but Volkner was going, so you can guess the rest. I almost spilled my soda on Gardenia during the infamous massacre scene, and I think I might've even screamed once or twice. Flint thought it was hilarious. He made Aggron noises at me for a month afterwards.

"Yeah, but this is _Unova_ popcorn. It's much better." I force down a few pieces and will myself not to gag. "Want some?"

Volkner takes a handful. "Tastes exactly like Sinnoh popcorn to me."

* * *

I can't eat this. It's covered in that awful fake butter, and I can already feel it getting stuck in my teeth— _so_ not a good look with Volkner right next to me.

"Enjoying your popcorn?" he teases for the millionth time.

"Loving it," I lie. And when he gets up to grab another beer, I accidentally-on-purpose spill half the bag into the next row.

He's gone. Finally, he's gone. I thought this moment would never come.

"Maylene!" I nudge her. "Tell me everything you know about football, and fast."

"Who, me? Why don't you ask _Volkner_?" She's laughing as she says it, but I'm not. Nobody likes the girl who forgets her friends the second her crush comes along.

"Am I that bad?"

"Don't worry about it," Maylene reassures me. "But between you and Gardenia, I might as well be here by myself."

I see what she means. Gardenia and Roark are as close as Klink—another inch and she'd literally be in his lap. Roark's grinning like he's just been inducted into the Hall of Fame, and Byron's looking on in stunned silence. I don't think he knew his son had it in him.

"Well, at least one of us is having a good time."

"Aren't you?" She looks up in surprise. "Seems like Volkner's having the time of his life."

"Oh, believe me." I drop my voice to a whisper as he makes his way down the aisle. "He is."

And the first thing he says once he's back to his seat? "You sure made a dent in that popcorn." Figures.

"Yeah, I did." That'll show him.

But then some kid has to go and open his big mouth. "Dad? Why is there popcorn all over the floor?"

Volkner turns to me with a smirk. "You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

I cross my arms in defiance. "Nope. Now quit bothering me. I'm trying to watch the game."

* * *

"Cotton candy! Get your cotton candy!"

 _No way_ , I think, when I hear the voice. It's almost enough to make me wish I'd told Volkner the truth.

The thing is, I adore cotton candy. It's like pink and blue heaven and you can't find it in Snowpoint anywhere. But I can't have cotton candy _and_ popcorn. Volkner will think I'm a Pignite. Or a Grumpig. Whichever the fatter one is.

I try to ignore it. But Wake calls the guy over, and the next thing I know, everyone's bought some but me. Even Volkner—and all I can do is stare longingly at the unopened bag in his lap.

"Aren't you going to eat that?" I pester him. Why shouldn't I? He's only been doing it to me all afternoon.

"No," he deadpans. "I'm going to throw it on the ground when you're not looking." But then his expression softens as my eyes meet his. "Just take it, Candice." He hands me the cotton candy before I can protest. "I never liked this stuff, anyway."

I don't understand. Why would he buy it if he never—

_Oh._

"Well…" I crack a smile. "If you insist."

Maybe, just maybe, today won't be such a failure after all.

For the next few minutes, I'm in cotton candy dreamland. But then the entire stadium goes quiet, and I follow Volkner's gaze to the jumbotron. Every male in the building is gawking at the same thing.

Arceus help me. It's the new Elesa swimsuit ad.

And it's not even the tacky kind, so it's not like I can sit here feeling all self-righteous and superior because I'm not _that_ kind of girl. It's provocative yet tasteful, classic yet fashion-forward—the very qualities that skyrocketed Elesa to stardom in the first place. One glimpse of this, and Volkner's going to pack up and move to Nimbasa for good.

Calm down. No, he's not. He's got a gym to run in Sunyshore, remember?

Anyway. Everyone knows these things are photoshopped. Models never look this good in real life. It's all in the editing.

Except I've seen Elesa in real life, and she's every bit as flawless in the flesh. And I highly doubt Volkner's staring at her picture and wondering which parts they airbrushed. He's probably fantasizing about taking her back to his hotel room and… no. Let's not go there.

But I don't know that for sure, do I? Maybe it's time I found out what he thinks, once and for all.

"So," I say casually. "Elesa's really pretty, huh?"

Volkner shrugs, but he doesn't take his eyes off her for an instant. "Yeah, no kidding."

I crumple what's left of my cotton candy into a miserable little ball. He's not supposed to _agree_ with me. He's supposed to say something like "She's not my type," or "That's not even her real hair."

* * *

Okay. So maybe that football game wasn't my finest moment. But at the end of the day, it's not going to matter. Because on the way back to the hotel, I had a stroke of pure genius.

Arceus knows Elesa's in every magazine under the sun. And if I know magazines, they can't all have good things to say about her. So I went down to the gift shop and picked out a few to dig up some serious dirt.

So far, I haven't found much. _Elesa: Life Behind the Lens_ turned out to be nothing more than a photo spread. And _All About Elesa_ was just a useless rundown of facts. (As if anyone needs to know that her favorite ability is Motor Drive and her zodiac sign is Whimsicott.)

Luckily, I've been saving the best article for last. _Elesa Exposed: Her Most Revealing Interview Yet_.

I'm hoping to discover a deep, dark secret that'll send Volkner running for cover. Like she's had a nose job. Or she's allergic to Luxray. Or she didn't _really_ design that amazing gym—she just kind of sketched a roller coaster on a cocktail napkin while out on the town one night and paid some engineer to do the rest.

But as I read on, all I learn is how hard she's worked to get where she is. How Alder didn't think her gym duties would fit into the fast-paced world of modeling, so she issued an open battle call at Castelia Fashion Week and fought challengers on the runway in between shows, just to prove that she could. And she won some and lost some (waking up at five in the morning for hair and makeup has to mess with your focus a little), but her sheer determination was proof enough.

And how she's always struggled with the public's perception of her. _"I just wish people could see past my image."_ A bolded caption catches my eye. _"Everyone says I'm reserved…"_

I feel a pang of empathy—I can relate. You wouldn't believe how many trainers walk into my gym expecting some cold, distant ice queen.

But what am I thinking? Elesa's the enemy, remember?

Stupid article. I knew I should've gone with _10 Ways to Make Him Want You_ instead.

* * *

When Gardenia drops by several hours later, I haven't made much progress. With _anything_.

"How was your date?" I ask, inviting her in.

"Could've been worse, could've been better." She sits down on my bed amid a mountain of clothes, as Fantina pointedly ignores us from across the room. "Roark brought me roses. But then he went on about fossils all night."

"I bet he was just nervous. This isn't really his scene." I giggle, picturing Roark showing up to dinner at our five-star hotel in his mining gear. Which I have to admit is a bit ridiculous. I'm sure he changed into something more appropriate first.

At least, for his sake, I hope he did.

"Tomorrow should be perfect, though," she continues. "We've got a whole day planned in Nacrene. There'll be fossils in the museum, and grass Pokémon in the forest along the way."

"That _is_ perfect." I smile back as she sighs contentedly, but inside, I'm green with envy. I want to sigh like that. And dish about _my_ dates with _my_ boyfriend. One of these days.

"So." She picks up a Liepard print scarf with a questioning look. "How goes the fashion crisis?"

Have I mentioned that I still don't know what I'm wearing tomorrow? Every time I think I've got it all worked out, my mind flashes back to Elesa on the jumbotron, and I decide I'll have to try a whole lot harder if I want to beat _that_.

I sigh—but not in a good way. "I think I need an emergency trip to Shopping Mall Nine."

" _Au contraire_." Fantina glances up from her book on _Les Grands Coordinateurs_ —something to do with contests, by the sound of it. "Trust me, you don't."

She can't be too fond of me right now. I only got around to putting my clothes away this morning, and here I go again. But she has to understand. After all, she was young and in love once. Maybe.

"You really don't." Gardenia nods—and those two don't agree on anything. "I tried on four of her dresses for my date tonight, and three still had the tags on."

Thankfully, I'm saved by a knock at the door.

"Guess what?" Maylene says as I open it. "I finally tracked down Vo—" She stops short, noticing Fantina's presence. "Um, you know who."

"You put her up to this, didn't you?" Gardenia shakes her head at me. "Obsessed. You are _obsessed_."

"Not obsessed. _Focused_." There's a difference.

Anyway, what was I supposed to do? I needed to know if Volkner had plans tomorrow with Elesa. And I couldn't ask him myself, because then he'd realize exactly what was up when I scheduled a retreat outing that just so happened to conflict with them.

Besides. Maylene knows I'd do the same for her. I make a mental note to play matchmaker next time Aaron's around.

"Any news on our favorite supermodel?" I ask, imbuing the word "favorite" with enough sarcasm to give Volkner a run for his money.

"You were right," Maylene confirms my worst fears. "They're doing something tomorrow."

"Well, they're not anymore," I say determinedly. "We're doing retreat things tomorrow." _What_ things, I don't know. But I've got the rest of the night to figure it out.

"What about Nacrene?" Gardenia's losing patience with me, I can sense it.

I shrug helplessly. "Can't you go the day after tomorrow?"

She doesn't sound happy. "I guess."

"What about the rest of us?" Fantina snaps her book shut with a frown. "I'm seeing a Pokémon Musical tomorrow."

A Pokémon Musical. That's not a bad idea. I mean, everyone likes Pokémon. And the theater's just down the street…

"Then you're in luck," I tell her, in a burst of inspiration. "So are we!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Up next: Volkner in boxer shorts. Need I say more? ;)_


	6. Spark

_senirasushipping — because it doesn't have to end like this_

* * *

Some questions aren't easily answered. Those little mysteries of life that keep a girl up at night. Like how to outdo a model in a swimsuit ad, when you're not a model and you can't wear a swimsuit.

Well, I can, obviously. Just not to a musical.

I should've told the other leaders we were going to the hotel pool, I muse to myself as I scan the lounge. They're sitting in bored silence for the most part. So I've made it very clear to them that technically this was Fantina's idea.

The pool would be fun. It'd be like that beach party we never had. And I'd get to see Volkner in swim trunks.

Then again, I'd be met with the impossible task of somehow maintaining my composure while faced with Volkner in swim trunks. On second thought, maybe this musical wasn't a bad choice.

Besides. It's the sort of event you can dress up for. And believe me, I haven't let the opportunity go to waste.

I'm wearing a barely-there dress in a piercing ice blue—one of the ones Gardenia turned down for dinner with Roark. It was a bit more bedroom than dining room, she said. Not that there was anything wrong with that. She just hoped for my sake I might need it later.

Though I'm not sure a musical was what she had in mind.

I run my fingers over the lace trim and begin to second-guess myself. Is this too much?

Of course not. It's fine. It's only a slipdress.

Besides. My shoes aren't too much, and it's all about balance. After that close call at the football game, I've switched out the skyscraper heels for a delicate pair of sandals—the kind you almost float into the room in. I've got everything I need to steal Volkner's attention away from Elesa once and for all.

There's just one tiny hitch. He's not here.

I mean, honestly. Everybody _else_ is.

Fantina's watching the clock and muttering foreign words to herself. She's already warned me that we're about to be late. Byron's staring out the window at Arceus knows what. Probably some excavation site off in the distance. Wake's drumming his fingers impatiently on the arm of his chair. Maylene's absorbed in her phone. Gardenia's resting her head on Roark's shoulder, and it's giving me serious couple envy. I'm trying not to dwell on it.

I texted Volkner. I know I did. I double-checked to make sure the message went through. Double as in more like fifty-seven times.

I texted everyone about our musical plans—everyone who wasn't with me when I thought them up, that is. And they all got back to me right away. All except him.

Wake sent a "rock on" emoji. Roark informed me without hesitation that he had his own plans and Gardenia did too—her influence, no doubt. To which I replied that I'd spoken with Gardenia and there'd been a small change of itinerary.

(I'll make it up to her someday. Really, I will.)

Even Byron wrote, "K." Which is at least an answer.

So Volkner has no excuse. None.

That crushing moment when you text a guy and he doesn't text you back. There's no worse feeling. You'd rather he text something— _anything_. Even if it's not what you want to hear. Then you don't lie awake half the night clutching your all-too-silent phone and wondering if you should send another text to ask if he got your text.

(You don't. It's practically a written rule. At most, you can text again a few days later pretending you didn't notice or care. And if he doesn't respond to that, you're done. You wouldn't want to seem _desperate_.)

Gardenia thinks if you want to text a guy you should just text him. But that's unheard of. Has she never read a magazine in her life?

All you can do is wait. And every time you've left your phone out of earshot even for a second, you get that hopeful feeling, like maybe you'll pick it up again and find that message icon in the corner—and you can't resist one last look.

Nothing.

And finally at two in the morning, the notification sound goes off and your heart leaps, and you hope it's him but you don't dare hope it's him and then everything comes crashing down. Of course it's not him. It's Wake. He's pumped for the musical, and he was just wondering if there'd be audience participation of any kind.

Um, _what?_

That was when I threw my phone across the room. I can't say Fantina was too impressed.

But she's right about one thing. We're going to miss the musical at this rate. As I check the time—I'm happy to report that my phone is still in one piece—I see that photo of Volkner with his arm around my shoulders and frustration wells up within me. _Why_ didn't he text me back?

Not because he didn't get my text. That's never, ever the reason. Unless he forgot his charger at home and now his phone's gone dead. But that's taking wishful thinking to new extremes.

Anyway. I'm sure he'd come up with something, being the electrical genius he is. Knowing Volkner, he'd build a charger out of a TV cable and a fork. Or get one of his Pokémon to do it. Can they do that? Charge phones?

I could ask him, one of these days. Though preferably not by text message.

What if he's mad at me? Or he's had enough of me? Yesterday keeps replaying itself over and over in my head. Was it really such a disaster?

He caught me fantasizing about him. (But I said shoes. But actually him.) He caught me faking a phone call to Cynthia. He caught me with our photo set as wallpaper. He caught me out on every football fact I made up.

I'll admit it. It was a disaster.

But what if it's not me? What if he was out... with _her_?

I can envision it now. They'd be at an exclusive nightspot—some secret club where only models and movie stars get in. Elesa would look unfairly glamorous in a custom designer outfit I couldn't buy if I wanted to. Volkner would look like Volkner. Irresistible without even trying.

They'd be sitting way too close to each other. Talking about the advantages of Thunder versus Thunder Fang or whatever it was. Volkner's phone would buzz on vibrate.

He'd only glimpse at it for a second. _"Candice's texting me again, can you believe her?"_

She'd laugh. And then he'd shove his phone back in his pocket and they'd make out.

I can't stand it anymore. It's fifteen minutes after. He's supposed to be here. I've got my eyes locked on the entrance, as though at any moment he'll walk in the lounge like, "Tell me why we're going to this thing again?" Or, "I need a coffee." Or just plain glaring at me.

I know. I'll ask Wake. "So where's Volkner?"

My voice wavers as I mention his name. Like I can't help but worry it'll give me away. Like all I have to say is _Volkner_ and everyone will discover exactly what I'm up to.

"In bed." Wake shrugs his huge shoulders.

I resist the urge to picture Volkner in bed. Not now. That can wait. There'll be a whole musical to sit through later.

In bed. That might be okay. If he's in bed, that means he isn't with Elesa. Unless—

No. Don't be ridiculous. Not with Wake in the room.

We could just leave Volkner there. But that's not a risk I can afford to take. With my luck, he'll run around the corner to Elesa's gym as soon as we're gone. Or Elesa's place. Even worse.

Besides. I didn't put this dress on for him _not_ to see it.

"Can you get him?" I beg. "Pretty please?"

"Tried that." Wake shakes his head. "He's out like a light. Did my best wrestling chants and everything."

Suddenly I feel _really_ sorry for Volkner.

No, I don't. He didn't text me back. He deserves all the wrestling chants in the world. "Can you try again?"

"No way." He tosses me his room key, which I almost drop before I catch. "You want him here, you get him."

Fine, then. I'll get Volkner. All I need to do is wake him up. It's already noon. How hard can that be?

"I'll be right back," I announce to the other leaders as I exit the lounge. "Don't go anywhere."

"Have fun," Gardenia calls after me with a wink.

A _wink._ Could she be any less subtle?

* * *

Okay. I can do this. It's only Volkner's room.

Not even his real room. A hotel room. So it's hardly that big a deal.

The key is in my hand. I'm clutching it so tightly, it's left imprints on my palm. I steady myself against the door, trying in vain to calm my nerves.

I should knock first. Obviously I should knock. I tap quietly. Then not so quietly.

No answer.

I take one last deep breath and slide the key into the slot. This is it. I'm going in.

Sunlight's streaming through the windows. Volkner's under the covers, his head turned to one side. His room is a lot like mine—only it hasn't been hit by a hurricane of clothes. A flash of deep blue catches my eye.

His jacket, draped across a chair. _The_ jacket.

He's sound asleep. He wouldn't even know.

But I couldn't. It'd be so embarrassing if he woke up.

…Could I?

"Volkner?" I say tentatively.

He doesn't stir. So I tiptoe over and ever so cautiously slip it on.

The lining feels soft against my skin. It's the closest I've come to being in Volkner's arms. I smile at myself in the mirror, admiring my reflection. The blue suits me. I always thought it would. And the contrast between the jacket's sleek lines and my dress's intricate lace is a total fashion statement.

It's just too big enough. Which is everything I'd hoped for. When you wear a guy's jacket, you don't want it looking like just _any_ jacket. You want other girls to see it and know exactly whose it is. And that he gave it to you on a chill winter's night, because you were shivering and he noticed.

Only I'm good with the cold. It's kind of my trademark. And even if I tried to pretend, I doubt Volkner would be fooled. He'd probably remind me of some random outing half a year ago when it was snowing and I went around in a miniskirt.

But how long have I been standing here, anyway?

Casting an uncertain glance at Volkner, I slide the jacket off my shoulders and neatly fold it. Then unfold it. Volkner didn't fold it. He threw it over the chair.

I put it back haphazardly, just as I found it. There. He'll never suspect a thing.

Though I could've sworn his head was turned the other way before.

No. It can't have been. I must be losing it.

I need to focus. To do what I came here to do. Get Volkner up. Get him to the musical. Get him far, _far_ away from Elesa. Or at least as far as the theater down the street.

Arceus, he's gorgeous when he's sleeping. Tousled hair and a hint of a smile playing at his lips. I wonder what Volkner dreams about.

Conquering the Sinnoh League, maybe. The day when nobody hopeless shows up at his gym anymore. That Elesa swimsuit ad on the jumbotron.

I feel a rush of annoyance at the thought. Focus on _him_. Not her.

"Volkner?" I raise my voice a level.

His eyes drift halfway open. As they meet mine, his smile twists into a smirk. "The hell are you doing here?"

"Wake gave me the key," I manage, showing him with unsteady hands. Why didn't I plan what I was going to say?

"Good." He closes his eyes again. "Don't give it back."

"I don't know if you got my text, but we're leaving for the musical. Like, ten minutes ago." A nervous giggle escapes me. Volkner is _so_ not a morning person.

"Then leave."

But it isn't morning. It's early afternoon. What did he get up to last night? Do I even want to ask?

"You're leaving with me," I tell him instead. I won't relent that easily.

He rolls over, burying his face in a pillow. "No, Candice. I'm not."

I try to snatch it away, but his grip is stronger than mine. "Do I need to call Cynthia?"

"Not gonna work this time."

"Do I need to get you up myself?" I tease. Though how I'll do that, I haven't quite worked out.

"You need to stop talking."

 _Ouch_. But there's an idea.

That's it. That's what I can do. I position myself on the edge of Volkner's bed and just talk. About anything and everything.

"So we never did make it to the Ferris wheel the other day. And we don't want to miss it, because it's the one place in Nimbasa everybody goes. Your trainers will be like, 'Did you ride the Ferris wheel, Volkner?' And you'll be like, 'No'…"

"You know, I once read that you shouldn't date people who battle with the same type as you. Like, ever. All the experts agree. Your personalities clash, and it gets awkward when you're out together and you come across a Pokémon you both want…"

"Not that I mean anyone in particular. I'm just saying, it made a lot of sense…"

"So I've been thinking about how we can get a record Multi Train streak going. We knock out the weaker opponent's team first. Then it's two against one. We focus on strategy, not strength. And I hope your Pokémon can survive a bit of hail…"

Volkner's head jerks up. "They can. You know that."

"Oh, sure." I laugh. "But now I know you're awake, too."

He rises from the bed and sits down, pushing the covers aside. "You don't quit, do you?"

Arceus. _I_ need to sit down.

I'm already sitting down, I realize. In Volkner's bed. With Volkner wearing boxer shorts and nothing more. All of a sudden I'm finding it hard to breathe, let alone speak.

He's right next to me. I can't look him in the eye. I _can't_ look at his everywhere else.

"You okay?" He lets out a low chuckle. "You look a little flushed."

Do I? That's the trouble with living in Snowpoint. I'm always a bit on the fair side, which I don't mind much. But when I blush, people can _tell._

It's especially a problem when Volkner's nearby. I can only imagine what color I've turned with Volkner dressed like that.

Or not dressed. That's the issue here. Luvdisc pink. No, Cherubi red.

"Just a little sunburned," I lie to no avail. "Nimbasa weather. You know."

He raises an eyebrow. "Can't say I do."

"You wouldn't." Of course he wouldn't. Volkner's tan all over—Sunyshore guys usually are—and the sight of his gym-to-beach body against rumpled white sheets is one I'll never forget.

A grin comes over him as he follows my gaze, and it dawns on me with a creeping humiliation that I've just been caught _looking_.

"Some sunburn." He reaches out and brushes a hand against my cheek. "You're hot to the touch."

Oh, Volkner. He must know that's not helping.

He _knows_. He has to. How could he not, after the past two days? I feel all flustered and faint at the thought.

"We could stay in," he's saying. "Get you out of the sun."

Stay… in?

He can't be suggesting what I think he is. But he's leaning in close. Staring at me with an intensity I don't recognize. Tracing a finger under the strap of my dress.

A shiver of anticipation runs through me as I whisper back, stunned by my own boldness. "Maybe we should."

"Yeah." There's an edge to his voice, challenging, almost triumphant. "Too bad you made plans."

No, no, _no_. What plans? We can cancel plans. Since when does he care about our plans?

"I'd better get ready." Sarcasm drips from his every word. "We wouldn't want to miss the _musical_."

And he walks off and leaves me there with one last taunting glance, my head spinning with untold possibilities.

The bathroom door shuts behind him. I hear the shower running. The moment's gone. There's nothing I can do.

* * *

The hallway is empty, thank Arceus. I fall back against the wall and sink down to the floor, clasping my knees to my chest. What just happened?

What just _didn't_ happen? I thought he was going to…

Well. I thought a lot of things.

Oh, this is all wrong. I don't want to go to the musical. I don't even like musicals. I want to sit atop a luxe hotel bed in my blue lace dress while Volkner in boxer shorts comes _this_ close to kissing me.

Except actually kisses me. He was about to.

He _was_.

I look down at the key in my hand. He's still inside. I could go back. It doesn't have to end like this.

I'd pound on the bathroom door, fists frantic with longing. Volkner would fling it open at last, neglecting to turn off the shower behind him. Dripping wet, with a towel wrapped around his waist. Surprised, and probably none too pleased.

I wouldn't be able to resist. I'd kiss him, this time for real. He'd kiss me back harder, embracing me with strong arms. We'd step into the shower, like a romcom set in rain. And I'd ruin my dress, but it wouldn't matter anymore, and I could always buy another one—

"Waiting for somebody?"

Volkner's standing over me. Guys get ready in no time. I don't have a clue how they do it.

"Something like that." I sigh resentfully. He _knows_ what he did in there.

"What's wrong, Candice?" He holds out a hand to help me to my feet, and I take it, still weak in the knees. "You got your way, didn't you?"

"Shut up, Volkner." If I had my way…

Stop. I'm _not_ going to answer that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Up next: A musical. A confrontation. Maybe even a confession, if Candice gets her act together…_


	7. Payback

_senirasushipping — because the truth always comes out in time_

* * *

This is not good. _Really_ not good.

I'm no expert, but I'd give this musical one star. Maybe two, if I'm being generous. And I'm awarding bonus points for décor.

So I discovered moments before showtime that they don't always have the best of the best onstage. The stars come out at night. Not midday. And it's obvious as can be.

This isn't a play. It's a total free-for-all. If there's a plot, I can't make sense of it. There are four Pokémon competing for the crowd's attention as their trainers shout commands, each more outrageous than the last. And they're over-accessorized to the absolute limit.

Just look at that poor Pidove. It's so weighted down by props, it can barely even fly. I mean, I love fashion as much as the next person. Okay, more. A lot more. But you won't find me decking out my Abomasnow like a Christmas tree.

I can't _wait_ to hear what the others will say, I think, with sarcasm verging on Volkner levels. I made them cancel their plans for this?

Cringing to myself, I risk a glance around. Wake's singing along and pumping his fists in time with the beat. Fantina's watching with her head tilted to one side, as though taking in the show with a critical eye. I wonder what she makes of the straw hat on that Chandelure. It's not exactly ghostlike. And isn't that a fire hazard?

As for the rest of us? Let's just say I doubt we'll become Pokémon musical superfans anytime soon.

I'm not sitting with Volkner. After all that's gone on this weekend—not to mention in his _bed_ —I can't have him thinking I'm trying too hard.

Besides. He didn't sit with me.

He's a row in front, with the older crowd. And wearing sunglasses. Indoors. That's a new look for him. Maybe he forgot to take them off when he came in. Or he's just embarrassed to be seen at this thing.

I blink twice as a Watchog adjusts its fairy wings. Wings. On a Watchog. You know what? I don't blame him.

On my left, Maylene checks her phone and her face lights up. "Look!" she whispers. "Aaron just texted me!"

Well. That's a start.

I try to keep my voice down. "What did he say?"

Okay. I _know_ you're not supposed to talk at musicals. But I can't help being excited for her. And the music's so loud, I'm sure nobody will notice.

"'How's it going at the retreat?'"

"What are you going to say back?"

I'm already running through the possibilities in my head. This might be simple conversation, but it's serious business. When a guy texts you, you've got to make the most of it. You can't write just any old thing. It has to be perfect.

"'It'd be better if you were here.'" Gardenia nudges her on her other side. "Try it."

"Gardenia!" Sometimes I can't believe her. Maylene might as well come right out and say she likes Aaron, if she's going to do that.

Gardenia probably _would_ have her do that. It'd probably be the next text.

"Well? What would you write?" she asks, and I pause to collect my thoughts.

You see, it's complicated. Texting is an art. You have to give the guy just enough of a hint that you're into him. So if he's interested—if he's looking for a sign—he'll get the idea. But if he's not, it'll come across like any other text.

Volkner cuts in before I can answer. "Why not tell him you're stuck at this damned musical?"

I laugh. We all do. But at the same time, I feel a bit caught out. Has he been _listening_? Poor Maylene.

I don't think he talks to Aaron. But if Volkner talks to Flint and then Flint talks to Aaron—

No, it'll be fine. Volkner doesn't talk.

Our laughter dies down as an usher zeroes in on us, shining a flashlight our way and putting a finger to his mouth. Oops. I guess we were louder than we thought.

" _Taisez-vous!_ " warns Fantina over her shoulder. She's clearly not amused.

"Sorry?" I feign innocence. It's not like I've ever been to Kalos, or anything.

"Quiet."

Elesa's been to Kalos, I'm sure. It's the very center of the fashion world. I bet she has a place in Lumiose with a closet the size of my house and flies there on the weekends. Except not this one. Unfortunately. For some reason.

"Yeah," Volkner mutters under his breath. "Some of us are trying to sleep."

Fantina's only response is a reproachful glare, and I suppress a giggle. That explains the sunglasses.

But how much sleep is he catching up on here? I've got a bad feeling about this. I could barely drag Volkner out of bed this morning—I mean, afternoon. I have to know where he's been.

I'll find out afterwards. Just subtly. And if it's with Elesa, what _now_? Can I persuade Cynthia to cut the whole retreat short? Not do it and say she did? Invent a Sinnoh-wide emergency, maybe?

I'm wondering how I'd manage that when I notice Maylene, typing texts into her phone and then deleting them. I feel a rush of empathy for her. Every girl's been there.

Okay, _think_. I'm determined to help. She's done so much lately on account of my would-be love life. I can at least do this much for hers.

And then I've got it.

"I know!" I turn to Maylene with sudden inspiration. "Say you can't wait to tell him all about it. Maybe then you'll get a date!"

"Or you could skip all the what-ifs and wondering and ask him on one yourself," Gardenia argues. I figured she would.

Maylene looks a little overwhelmed. I mean, it's only her first crush.

I jump to her defense. "She doesn't have to if she doesn't want to."

"Oh, of course she doesn't," Gardenia replies airily. "She can do it your way. She might even get somewhere by next year's retreat, if she's lucky."

Next _year_?

Then I remember the day I fell for Volkner, and I admit to myself with a twinge of embarrassment that she kind of has a point.

"Hey, Volkner, since you're up?" Gardenia leans forward with a grin. "What should Maylene do about the guy she likes? Should she let him know? Or keep it all inside and hope one day something happens?"

She cannot be doing this. If Maylene wasn't between us, I'd elbow her hard.

"What are you asking me for?" He darts an insinuating glance my way, and I refuse to glance back, like I don't have the faintest idea, nor do I care.

Shut up, shut up, _shut up_. I wish someone would pull the fire alarm.

"You're a guy," Maylene says quickly. "Why not?"

I really love Maylene. I hope she gets her date with Aaron. I hope they have the best date ever and he takes her to the League formal. I may be getting ahead of myself here.

Volkner shrugs. "Do what you want." And he turns away without another word.

That is _such_ a Volkner answer.

But when I think about it, it's not bad advice. What do _I_ want?

Oh, come on. I know what I want. He's only right there in front of me.

I want him to kiss me like he didn't before. I want to fall into his arms. To someday, one day, get lost in those eyes—without having to worry he'll catch me doing it.

I want Volkner to let me in. And Elesa? I want her _out_. Out of the picture, before it's too late. If it's not too late. And then I want more pictures like the one on my phone.

I want to stop second-guessing myself. I want to know where I stand. I want to show Gardenia what I'm made of. I want to show Maylene how it's done. I want to show Elesa, just _show_ her.

"Volkner?" I tap him on the shoulder.

"Now what?" He sighs as he turns back, though I glimpse a split-second smile.

"Any advice for me while you're at it?" I say meaningfully, gazing at him through lowered lashes.

Volkner folds his arms over the top of his chair. "About?"

He's making this so much harder than it has to be. I wonder, as I scan his face for a hint of emotion, if he might even be enjoying it.

"You know." I'm almost lightheaded with nerves, but I can't back down now. "Same thing."

Forget the musical. Forget the others. It's like we're off in our own world, like the crowd surrounding us has faded to a blur. I wait with a pounding heart, each moment lasting an eternity.

In a low whisper, he finally speaks. "I think you've done enough."

His expression gives nothing away. Sunglasses are the _worst_.

Gardenia shoots me a look of confusion. Maylene doesn't even look up.

She's texting again, I realize. I don't sneak a peek at what she's writing. I can mind my own business. And what kind of a friend would I be if I didn't respect her privacy?

Besides. She's covering her phone with her hand.

Done enough. What does _that_ mean?

It could mean anything. Literally anything. Done enough like do no more because I've got him right where I want him? Or done enough like I'm making a fool of myself and why won't I leave him alone?

Oh, guys should just say what they mean and mean what they say. This is impossible.

"Guess what?" Maylene practically squeals, startling me from my thoughts. "Aaron asked me out!"

"What did you text him?" I don't believe it. First crush and she makes it seem so easy.

But as she holds out her phone to show me, I catch sight of that same usher looming over us, this time with two security guards in tow.

"Get out," says one. "All of you."

Fantina gives a self-satisfied nod. "I _told_ them to be quiet."

" _All_ of you," the guard repeats in no uncertain terms. "And you aren't welcome back."

She's arguing with them, trying to act like she isn't with us, but she's not getting very far. Everyone knows the Sinnoh League. Even in Unova.

" _Ridiculeux_ ," I hear her scoff, as the rest of us leave. "I'll be having a word with the director."

* * *

I catch up with Volkner outside the theater. There's a lot I want to say. But I can be cool. Calm and collected.

I'll approach with a neutral smile. Fall into step beside him. And then I'll ask, ever so casually. What do you _mean_ , I've done enough?

No. No way. That's about as cool as a Magmortar.

"So much for the musical. Guess it wasn't meant to be," I begin instead, evoking thoughts of what more could've been. At least, that's the idea.

"Can't complain," is all he says. Then he looks at me.

Like, _really_ looks at me. A grin spreads across his features. It's just the reaction I've been hoping for. I knew this outfit was the one.

"Your sunburn's gone," he teases.

 _Oh_.

"Well, they do that sometimes," I lie, twisting the strap of my dress around my finger. Remembering Volkner's touch on my skin. Feeling the heat rush to my face…

"Then again, maybe not."

Self-consciously, I lift a hand to my cheek. I _have_ to stop thinking about that.

I force my mind back to the present. "So where are you off to now?"

"Nowhere. Bed."

Well, that's not so bad. He could've been off to a private function with Elesa and thirty-seven of her supermodel friends.

"I'll go with you," I say. Then I process just what I've said. "Walk with you. To the hotel, I mean."

Volkner's eyes flicker with amusement. "I get what you mean."

He's lost the sunglasses now, and it's obvious he could use the rest. Don't get me wrong—those eyes are what fantasies are made of. But the shadows underneath aren't always there. Trust me, I've admired them from afar more than enough to notice.

"So." I adopt a playful tone, like I'm not concerned in the slightest. "What did you get up to last night?"

He continues straight ahead, as though he hasn't heard me.

"Anything fun?" I prompt him, my suspicions worsening by the second. "You don't want to tell me, do you?"

"You won't want to know." He's avoiding my gaze. I can't cope.

It's Elesa. What else could it be?

"It's okay." But I'm _not_ okay, and it shows. "I see how it is. I saw it the moment we walked into her gym."

"What?"

"And I bet you had a perfect night together. I bet she knew everything there is to know about generators and gears and… and gadgets." I've never been less calm and collected in my life. But I can't stop myself. "And I bet she looked straight off the runway like I never could because all the designers give her free clothes—"

" _Candice_. What are you talking about?"

"You were out with Elesa, weren't you?"

He's frowning at me like I've lost it. Which is fair enough, I admit, with a bitter inward sigh. He's not my boyfriend. He has every right to go out with Elesa.

"No."

Suddenly I wish I could make like my Froslass and vanish into thin air. "Then what?"

"I took on the Battle Subway," he says, after a long silence. "Beat the Bosses, too."

Without _me?_

"But we were supposed to do that together!" I hear the hurt rising in my voice.

"Yeah, we were." He doesn't miss a beat. "Before you got tickets to every event in Nimbasa and dragged the entire retreat with you." Volkner shakes his head, like it's all my fault. "When else would I have found the time?"

"We've got time tomorrow!" Desperately, I rush after him. "You still haven't done the Multi Train, have you?"

"I've got a battle tomorrow." He gives me a pointed look. "With Elesa. The one you've already made me cancel twice."

"Cancel it again," I snap back. "We're busy." Volkner won't like this. No one's going to like this. Everything's spiraling out of my control.

"Oh, _now_ we're busy." He's laughing at me. I can't bear it.

"We'll be at the Battle Subway. All of us," I improvise. But it's no good. I'm unconvincing even to my ears. "Where better for a group of Gym Leaders, right?"

We stop at an intersection, and Volkner faces me head on. "Seriously, Candice. Do you think I'm stupid?"

It's like I've taken an Ice Shard to the heart.

I try to protest, but nothing comes out. I'm just standing here, dazed and ashamed, staring down at the sidewalk. I feel tears starting to form, and blink them away before anyone sees—before Volkner makes some sarcastic comment and I can't hold them back any longer.

" _We_ won't be at the Battle Subway," says Roark, and it hits me with a wave of unease that the others have reached us. "Gardenia and I have plans of our own." He wraps a muscled arm around her shoulders. "You know that."

"I'm gonna catch another musical," Wake chimes in from behind.

"But we're banned!" I blurt out in surprise.

Chuckling, he draws himself up to full height. "But can they stop Crasher Wake?"

He might be on to something.

Oh, this is hopeless. Everyone's ditching out on me. Gardenia and Roark are done. Wake's done. Byron's walked off without explanation—I'm guessing that means he's done, too. Not to mention Fantina. I never wanted her here, anyway.

I turn to Maylene for support. She's still my friend.

"Sorry, Candice." She won't quite meet my eye.

Then I make the mistake of catching Volkner's, and instantly regret it.

"Don't look at me," he says, more softly than I expect. "I'm having that battle whether you like it or not."

Something inside me breaks down. I want to go home.

It's over. I give up. I can't do this anymore. I don't want to be on retreat in Nimbasa with Volkner. I want to curl up on my couch and drown my sorrows in hot chocolate and online shopping.

I'm searching in vain for an excuse to leave—as soon as possible—when Fantina's trademark accent echoes throughout the street.

"Never in my life have I ever been so humiliated." She's storming up to us. To me. And she sounds positively livid. "You, _mademoiselle,_ have a lot to answer for."

Not her. Not _now_. I take it things didn't go so well with the director.

"I'd planned to have an ordinary day at the theater. _She_ decided to invite everyone along." Fantina gestures toward me in a dramatic flourish, as though she's the lead coordinator in a show of her own.

Or lead Pokémon, I think with contempt. A scary one. Like a Cofagrigus.

"And do you want to know why?"

Maylene and Gardenia exchange horrified looks, and my memory skips frantically back to last night. Fantina was there the whole time. What has she heard? How much does she _know?_

Don't say it. Not in front of everyone. Please, don't say it.

"Fantina," I beg. "We can fix this. I'll call the theater. Tell them it wasn't you."

She doesn't falter for a second. "Do you think I haven't tried that already?"

Oh, Fantina's insufferable. I never should've let anything slip with her in the room. I should've just left her there to read her book.

"Hey, check it out!" Maylene motions far off in the distance. "A shiny Drifloon!"

"With a handsome older gentleman trainer," adds Gardenia. The situation's dire when even _she_ doesn't want the truth to come out.

Fantina glares daggers at her. Somehow, I get the impression this isn't what Gardenia intended.

"Not that much older," she amends. "Just, you know, about your age."

"Really, I do feel sorry for Candice," Fantina goes on undeterred, regarding me with false pity. "She's been watching her phone all night. Trying on all the clothes she brought along."

"That's a lot of clothes," remarks Roark to nobody in particular, and Gardenia gives him serious side-eye.

I mean, honestly. Not helping.

"Filling our schedule with whatever crosses her mind." Fantina's words are laced with spite. "All so the object of her affections won't _rendezvous_ with some model."

My heart drops.

"They say she's obsessed, the poor girl." As she departs, swishing her skirt behind her, she casts a final glance at Volkner. "I wonder who the unlucky _monsieur_ could be."

Volkner's staring straight at me. I could just die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Up next: With all now revealed, Candice finds herself facing the last person she wants to see..._


	8. Moonlight

_senirasushipping — just because_

* * *

I couldn't face Volkner after that. There was no way. So I did what any girl in my position would do. I turned on my heel and booked it down the nearest side street.

I know. I _know_. Not my most mature moment. But I panicked, okay?

I have no idea what I'm going to do next. I have no idea where I'm going. There's that Ferris wheel, taunting me from above as I collapse onto a bench. How did my daydreams get so far away? How did it all fall apart?

I bury my head in my hands, blocking it from my view. Stupid Ferris wheel. I hope it goes down for maintenance.

"Candice? Are you all right?"

I look up, and suddenly wish I'd run out of town.

It's not Volkner. It's not even my friends.

It's Elesa, towering over me in all her couture-clad glory. I hate Nimbasa. We should've gone to Undella instead.

"Fine!" I force a smile. I won't give her the satisfaction. "What are you doing here?"

"Leaving the gym," she says.

Right. It's next to the Ferris wheel. How could I forget?

"Shouldn't you be at a musical?" Elesa checks her custom Xtransceiver phone—as if I'd expect anything less—and frowns. "At least, that's what Volkner said when he called off our battle."

 _What_ musical, I want to say. But I can't. That's on a whole other level.

Could I really get away with it? Am I about to sink so low? Does it matter, if I'm never going to see her again?

"Oh?" I cross my fingers behind my back. "I guess Volkner lied." And I wait for that perfect face to fall.

It doesn't. And up close, it's not so perfect.

Well, she's Elesa. It's pretty well perfect. Only her mascara's smudged at the corner, like she's been training all day—and the day's just begun. Does she always hit the gym on the weekends? Is that how it is, with a schedule like hers?

Not only that. Her expression's making me nervous.

"Why would he?" Elesa's words come as more of a challenge than a question. "It was his idea."

Maybe I shouldn't have said that.

No. I _know_ I shouldn't have said that. It's exactly what I've been doing all along. And look where it's gotten me.

"He didn't." I take a deep breath. "I lied. The truth is, Elesa… I owe you an apology."

* * *

So I told her the whole story. How I fell for Volkner that fateful day long ago. How I've been trying to capture his attention ever since. How this retreat was the opportunity I'd been waiting for. How I've fantasized about that Ferris wheel moment. And how he walked right past it and into her gym.

How I'd never seen Volkner so impressed. How I refused to let him go without a fight. How I brought all the leaders to football, which I had to pretend to like. And then to that musical, which we got kicked out of. By the time I finished, Elesa was laughing so hard she said her sides hurt.

But not in a mean way or anything.

"Well, you can stop sabotaging our battle plans," she tells me, once she's regained her composure. "I'm not after Volkner."

"You're _not_?"

Elesa leans in confidentially, like we're sharing secrets between friends. "I mean, I can't say I didn't think about it. But I gave up on him before long."

Believe me, I've been there. "He's hard to get to know."

"No. Because he kept choosing your plans over plans with me."

I never thought about it _that_ way.

We end up talking for hours. I promise to let their battle go ahead—not that I could stop Volkner now if I tried—and Elesa promises to call me if she ever does a show in Sinnoh. And she'll put me in the front row. I've already got the perfect outfit in mind.

Oh, and it turns out she likes _my_ dress. The top model of top models herself.

So I take back what I said about hers, that night in the gym. It was pure jealousy. Nothing more. And she rolls her eyes a little, but I think she understands. She gets that a lot from other models. And other girls, in general.

It's not easy being Elesa. Took me long enough to realize.

"You know, they're wrong about you," I say, as I hug her goodbye. "Reserved? I don't see it."

"Where'd you hear that?" she asks. But she's practically glowing. I've made her day.

"Just something I read once."

* * *

Forget Volkner, Elesa said. Suppose Volkner wasn't even _here_ , she said. How would I be spending the rest of my vacation?

Shopping Mall Nine is everything I envisioned it to be.

Floor after floor of to-die-for stores. Clothes as far as the eye can see. Styles that haven't even made it to Sinnoh. I want it all. Hey, if I can't win at romance, I can at least make up for it in fashion before I get back to Pokémon, right?

Elesa agreed it made perfect sense. Then she called and pulled a few strings, so now I get a VIP discount at her favorite boutique.

In fact, they're giving me the full celebrity treatment. What a pleasure it is to have a top international Gym Leader as a customer. Are the fitting rooms all right for me? Would I like to try their signature cocktail?

And after one of those signature cocktails, I have to say, I'm feeling a whole lot better. Only I'm not sure this forget Volkner thing is working the way it's supposed to.

With every outfit I try on, I'm like, what's the use, if I've lost any chance I had with him? Then I'm like, I'll make Volkner see. I'll look so good…

Oh, who am I kidding? He'll never notice.

Volkner doesn't care for fashion. I asked him once. Which is too bad, because he, of all people, could do some serious shopping. With the work he's done in Sunyshore, he consults on so many projects, he's set for life. But I know him. He'd probably rather buy a state-of-the-art battle simulator.

Oops. So much for getting my mind off Volkner.

I haven't had Volkner off my mind since I got here. Once, when I stepped out of the fitting room for a second opinion, I just about swore I heard Volkner's voice. What's wrong with me?

Nothing. Don't answer that. On the bright side, I've never felt so fashion-forward in my life. As I twirl before the mirror in a chic navy coat, I feel my worries float away. I could stay here for hours. I don't even know how long it's been.

But it's all temporary. When I leave Shopping Mall Nine, it's back to reality.

Back to our hotel. Back to the room I'm sharing with Fantina. Back for one last miserable day of retreat. And then back to Sinnoh—how am I going to avoid Volkner on our flight?

There'll be League meetings. Nights out with our friends. I don't want to stress about it. I'm happy right where I am.

"Would you like to shop our new collection?" the manager calls through the door. "It's not out to the public, but for you, we're willing to make an exception."

"I'd love to."

* * *

It's only when it takes all the staff in the store to gather my purchases and bring them to the checkout that I start to think I might've overdone it.

You know. Just a tiny bit. Like when those romcom girls go out for a drink or two to rebound from their love lives gone wrong and suddenly it's one too many. Same here, except clothes.

But what's being a VIP for, if I can't look the part? Besides. I need this now more than ever.

"You deserve it," says one of the chattier sales associates. "After the day you've had."

How does she know? And why are they all watching me, like they're waiting for my reaction?

"About that," the manager speaks up. "There's someone here to see you."

I turn around, and almost drop my purse.

Volkner's coming my way. I'm thrilled and terrified all at once. There's no time to compose myself, or even to think. Is this for real, or has that cocktail gone to my head?

"Elesa told me I'd find you here," he says, when he reaches me. "I tried calling."

What _else_ has she told him?

No. She promised she wouldn't say a word. And I believe her.

I check my phone, but nothing registers. "It's frozen." Which I guess must happen sometimes after you've thrown it at a wall.

"So. Obsessed, huh?"

 _Arceus_. Volkner's not messing around.

But he's here. Halfway across Unova. And I realize, with a fragile, growing hope—he doesn't have to be.

He didn't have to go along with any of it.

"I don't obsess, I focus." I lock eyes with him and hold his gaze. I'm facing up to this, for better or worse. "Maybe a little too much on you. But I'm really, _really_ hoping you came because you've decided you don't mind."

I break off into silence. My hands tremble. I can't tell what he's thinking, but when could I ever?

"You're all set." The manager points me to an assortment of bags, all done up with tissue paper and bows. "Hope to see you next time you're in Unova!"

"Thank you so much," I say, thankful for the diversion, too. "I'll be at the checkout in a minute."

"No need." She nods toward Volkner. "It's been taken care of."

It's _what?_

The other girls in the boutique are looking on in amazement. Like they wish some gorgeous guy would show up out of nowhere and buy them all of their stuff.

Somehow I can't find the words. "Why would you… I mean, _thank_ you…"

"Elesa and I had that battle," Volkner says, after a pause. "Only a battle, in case you're interested."

"And?" He's teasing me again. And he so hasn't answered my question.

"I blew it."

"You _lost_?" I try not to gasp. Volkner hasn't lost a battle since Lucas. That I know of.

"My head wasn't in it." Something in his expression changes, and I find myself wondering if this is Volkner with his guard down. "For someone who's all about focus, you've sure done a number on mine."

Okay. Now I truly am speechless.

"Well," he says, like it's nothing at all. "You wanna get going?"

* * *

Right. We can manage this. No problem. It's only a few shopping bags.

It's not like I even got that much, I assure myself, as we pack the hotel elevator from floor to ceiling. Just a few things for the gym. And wearing out and about. And showing Volkner exactly what he was missing.

Not that I'll need to, it happens.

"How are you getting all this back to Sinnoh?" He's on my case as usual.

But I've got it more than covered. "Elesa's best friend owns a cargo plane."

Her name is Skyla and her employees will pick it up tomorrow while we're out at the Multi Train. Isn't that the greatest?

"Convenient," says Volkner, leading me into the last remaining inches of space. "I have a feeling you might need one."

"Hey." I squeeze closer to him as the doors shut—and we're lucky they do. "You didn't have to buy me the whole boutique, you know."

There's that smirk on his lips again. "Let's call it a gift. After all you've done for our retreat."

"After I _ruined_ our retreat." I might as well tell it like it is. "No one had fun, everyone bailed on me, you pulled an all-nighter just to get the Battle Subway in…"

"Oh, I had fun." He grins. "More than I've had in a while. It was worth it to watch you eat popcorn and talk football."

"I don't know the first thing about football." I giggle.

"Yeah," he deadpans. "Just ask Chad Mistralton Driftveil, star goalie… I mean, quarterback."

Which is _so_ like him, I think, with a playful pout at Volkner. Does he have to catch me out on everything?

* * *

_Fantina_ , I remember, as we arrive at my room. Arceus, no. I've got half the mind to turn back and spend our last night in Nimbasa camped out on Maylene and Gardenia's floor—if they'll still have me, that is.

Then again, just _wait_ till she sees us together. Fantina was out for revenge. To make me wish I'd never even gone on retreat. And look at me and Volkner now.

I fling open the door, steeling myself for a confrontation. But there's no one in.

Just clothes. Everywhere.

Volkner casts an amused glance around. "I see why Fantina has it in for you."

"Don't mention her. Please."

"Fair enough." He carries in the last of my bags. "But you might want to know that she caught an early flight back to Sinnoh."

"Good." Relief floods through me. I almost didn't notice her stuff was gone. I'm a disaster.

A loud knock sounds, and I will myself to relax. A knock that strong could only belong to Maylene.

Or Wake. But I mean, why?

"Candice!" Sure enough, it's Maylene, with Gardenia close behind. "We've been looking all over for you!"

"Guess we should've checked the mall." Gardenia scans the scene, brightening at the sight of Volkner. "Are we interrupting something?"

And I laugh.

On any other day, this is the part where I'd blush. Change the subject. Start talking way too fast. But all my feelings are out in the open. There's nothing left to give away. And you know what? I kind of like it.

"Maybe," I say instead. How's _that_ for bold?

"Volkner told Fantina off," Maylene cuts in. "You should've seen it!"

"You didn't tell me that!" I beam at him. I'm almost wishing I'd stuck around.

"It was nothing." He shrugs it off.

Maylene shakes her head. "It was awesome." And either she and Gardenia have forgotten they're mad at me—or they aren't.

I should've known they wouldn't be. They're my friends. The best friends a girl could ask for. Even after I made our retreat all about myself.

Or _Volkner_ , more like.

"Can we talk?" Suddenly, I'm desperate to make amends. "I've been more selfish this weekend than I had any right to be."

"We'll talk tomorrow." Gardenia smiles. "That Ferris wheel isn't going to run all night, you know."

Best. Friends. _Ever_.

Before I can so much as blink, Gardenia's rushing Maylene out the door. Subtle as always, but I'm learning to appreciate her ways.

"You coming?" Volkner asks, when it's just me and him. "Wouldn't want to miss the one place in Nimbasa everybody goes."

If I ever doubted he paid attention, I don't now.

Through the window, I watch the Ferris wheel turn—or not. Its lights are shining bright, but it's motionless in the sky. "We might be a little late for that."

"Don't worry about it." Volkner types a text into his phone. "Elesa's got connections."

Of course she does. But for once, I'm not jealous in the least.

* * *

We're back in the entertainment district. There's no chance we'll end up at the gym. I bet Volkner wouldn't even protest if I tried to call this a date. This is it. It's finally happening.

He knows how I feel. He's made it obvious he feels something himself. And the best part is, the more I own up to, the easier it gets.

"I love Pikachu," I say, when we walk past the sculpture. "Reminds me of you."

If only Gardenia could see me now. She'd be _so_ proud.

Volkner grins triumphantly back. "I knew your favorite color wasn't yellow."

"You were right, too. Blue all the way." I smooth down the hem of my dress as a wind blows by, and to my astonishment, he takes off his jacket and hands it over.

"Not that you need it." He catches my eye, as though daring me to confess. "Just because you like it so much."

"You _saw_ that?" I can feel my so-called sunburn coming back already.

"Looks good on you."

Oh, Volkner. This is only the beginning. Wait till I wear it to my gym—the girls will flip. Or on the moonlit beaches of Sunyshore, casually thrown over a white bikini.

Elesa gives us a wave before disappearing into her gym. I wave back and pull out my phone to snap a quick Ferris wheel selfie.

Never mind. Still frozen.

Maybe Volkner can fix it. I'll ask him. Later. And only if I can somehow delete my texts about him first. He doesn't need to know _that_ much.

"I got it." He offers up his own—without a hint of reluctance.

I wrap my arms around him. Our faces nearly touch. And when I see the photo, my heart skips a beat. He's smiling for real. At me. Because of me. Like he can't even help it.

"Perfect," I say. Then I set it as his wallpaper.

"Really?"

"Hey, you can always change it back."

He pockets his phone. "Maybe later."

"Elesa's guests?" A ride attendant comes forward. "Right this way."

That's us. Elesa's guests. How cool is that?

We board the Ferris wheel like my daydreams come true—or close enough. The sunset's long gone. And it turns out you don't sit down in these Poké Ball things.

Well, you could. But why would you? Unless you'd planned on going full romance novel heroine and claiming fear of heights in hopes of seeking comfort in your true love's arms.

I wouldn't. Not anymore.

We're lifted off the ground, and right away it's clear—my fantasies have nothing on Nimbasa at night. I gaze out at the streets lit up like a neon playground and the point where the skyscrapers meet the stars.

"It's beautiful," I say, just as I imagined I would.

"Yeah." He takes in our surroundings, then fixes those blue eyes on me. "But I'm gonna guess you didn't ask me here for the view."

The echoes of the city are fading fast, and I'm acutely aware that we're alone. His footsteps sound over the faint mechanical whirr of the ride as he comes closer.

Volkner doesn't hesitate. He kisses me.

Like he means it. Like he's been wanting this. Since that moment in his room, I hazard, as his hands find their way beneath my jacket and I slip into utter bliss. At _least_.

Well, his jacket. But he'll be lucky if he ever persuades me to give it back.

We're ascending high into the air—which is just about how I feel. Somewhere in the whirlwind of my mind, it dawns on me that we're only partway up.

 _"Volkner,"_ I tease. "You're supposed to do that at the top."

"I couldn't wait." He laughs. "Neither could you, I take it."

It's exactly like I said, I muse to myself as I kiss him once more. Volkner just isn't the romantic type.

And I'd never want it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that Candice and Volkner have reached their happily ever after, I'd like to say a massive thanks to you all! Your comments make this so much fun for me, not to mention the kudos and bookmarks, and I appreciate them more than anything! Fingers crossed we get that Sinnoh revival in the not-so-distant future!


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